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A.-. ^ -. - * . v . ' -i- 



TIT FOR TAT 


A TEUTOITIO ADVEE'TUEE 


BT 




THE MAECHIONESS CLARA LANZA. 



G. R PUTNAM’S SONS 

182 Fifth Avenue 
1880 









-- •• 



« 


Copyright 

1880 

By G. P. Putnam’s Sons 


TIT FOR TAT. 


PAST FIRST. 

I. 

rriOM,” said Philip Eandolph to me one even- 

JL ing as we sat together in his cozy little 
bachelor apartment, do you see those pictures 
hanging over yonder on the wall ? ” 

Of course I see them,” I replied. “ What of 
them?” 

Look at them closely, and give me your 
candid opinion as to their merits.” 

Being something of a connoisseur in art mat- 
ters, and not at all loath to display my knowl- 
edge, I rose from my chair somewhat more quick- 
ly than was my habit, and proceeded to scrutin- 
ize the pictures attentively. They were two in 
1 1 


2 


TIT TOE TAT. 


number. The first was a small copy of Eaphael’s 
Madonna di San Sisto, and a horrible copy it 
was too ; the drawing was defective, the coloring 
atrocious — in fact, the tout ensemble was not 
worthy to have graced the doorway of a country 
inn. The second was somewhat better, although 
far from good, and represented Correggio’s Read- 
ing Magdalen. The more I looked upon these 
wonderful productions — ^for wonderful they cer- 
tainly were — ^the more amazed I became at the 
bare idea of their hanging upon Philip’s wall. 
Was it possible that he thought them artistic ? 
Had some cunning dealer persuaded him into the 
belief that they were masterpieces ? Pondering 
deeply upon these questions, and being unable to 
arrive at any solution that seemed likely to prove 
satisfactory, I resolved to determine the matter 
by making a few inquiries of my host. 

Philip,” I said, putting into my voice a little 
pathetic quaver which I thought the occasion 
warranted, “ when your uncle died, did he leave 
you his fortune upon the sole condition that you 


TIT rOE TAT. 


3 


slioiild hang those — those things upon your 
wall ? ” 

^'He certainly did not,” replied my friend, 
stretching out his legs lazily, and puffing a 
cloud of smoke from beneath his long blonde 
mustache. Whatever my uncle’s faults may 
have been, he had more sense than to tolerate 
such vile daubs as those.” 

“ Did any one else give them or bequeath them 
to you ? Some dear friend perhaps ? ” 

I never had a friend except yourself, and if I 
had, he or she was not likely to give me any- 
thing. I can conscientiously say that I never re- 
ceived a present in my life.” 

“You certainly were not fool enough to luy 
them ? ” 

“ Most assuredly not.” 

“ Then,” I exclaimed, becoming rather exasper- 
ated, “ where in heaven’s name did you get them ? ” 

Philip threw the stump of his cigar into the 
fire, selected another, and proceeded calmly to 
light it, taking a most unnecessary amount of 


4 


TIT FOE TAT. 


time, I thought, for the operation. When he 
had finished, he raised himself a little in his chair 
and turned deliberately toward me. 

Do you really want to know ? ” he asked. 

Do I want to know ? ” I cried, almost angrily. 
Do you think I would stand here asking you all 
these questions if I didn’t ? But there’s no such 
thing as getting any satisfaction out of you.” 

Thomas,” said Philip solemnly, and appa- 
rently in nowise affected by my irritable speech, 
prepare yourself for a shock — I painted those 
pictures myself.” 

The last sentence was uttered slowly and with 
great emphasis, so that I could remain in no 
doubt as to the full extent of its significance. 

“You!” I exclaimed, glancing, alternately at 
Philip and the pictures, while a horrified surprise 
took possession of me. “Do you mean to tell me 
that yoUj Philip Eandolph, clothed and in your 
right mind, are guilty of those honible objects ? ” 

“ I blush to acknowledge it, and yet such is 
the sad fact.” 


TIT FOE TAT. 


5 


For all answer, I burst into sucb an uncon- 
trollable fit of laughter that the tears fairly rolled 
down my cheeks. When I regained my breath 
I looked at Philip. He was sitting quiet and 
composed in his chair, gazing at my irrepressi- 
ble burst of merriment without the shadow of a 
smile. 

Phil, old boy,” I said, taking out my hand- 
kerchief, and wiping my forehead and cheeks 
vigorously, “you’re not offended, are you ? I must 
beg your pardon for laughing so outrageously ; 
but when you made that very extraordinary 
announcement, I really couldn’t keep it, you 
know.” 

“ Offended ! — why on earth should I be of- 
fended ? Do you think I don’t know what dis- 
graceful daubs they are ? My dear fellow, I 
could roar with laughter myself, but whenever 
I look at them a peculiar and painful reminiscence 
occurs to my mind, and renders my thoughts 
anything but pleasant, I can assure you. If you 
care to hear what that reminiscence is, draw your 


6 


TIT rOE TAT. 


ctair up to the fire, help yourself to a cigar, and 
I’ll tell you all about it.” 

I needed no second invitation, being a person 
exceedingly fond of anecdotes and souvenirs of 
all kinds ; so in a few moments we were comfort- 
ably installed, Philip in his big arm-chair on one 
side of the fire, I in mine on the other, and the 
table holding Philip’s smoking set, between us. 

“ Now, old man,” I said, I’m all ears, so be- 
gin.” 

II. 

Ten years ago, began Philip, long before I 
had the pleasure of your acquaintance, my father, 
for some reason which I have never yet been 
able to divine, suddenly conceived the wild and 
incomprehensible idea of making an artist of me. 
I had for some time been under the impres- 
sion that cattle-raising was my only vocation in 
life, and I eagerly looked forward to the time 
when I should be a gentleman farmer, riding 
about on horseback and giving orders to my 


TIT FOE TAT. 


7 


workmen. Of course, it was nothing but a boy’s 
wliim ; but all the same I bad set my heart on it, 
and nothing could induce me to believe that I 
should be successful at anything else, especially 
art. When you look at those pictures yonder, 
you will perceive that my judgment was perfectly 
correct. Not so my father. He was a maniac 
on the subject of art. Several years previously 
he had suddenly detected — heaven only knows 
what led him to the discovery — that sparks of 
artistic genius lay slumbering in the depths of 
his own soul, and from that time on, the calm and 
peace of our hitherto happy household was rudely 
broken into, with no hope of its ever being re- 
established. The enthusiastic author of my ex- 
istence fitted up a studio, installed himself there- 
in, and painted day and night. You may per- 
haps form some slight idea of his productions 
when I tell you they were about on a par with 
mine. He began to load his conversation with 
technical terms and phrases, talked about tone ” 
and “breadth,” and all that sort of thing; in short 


8 


TIT FOE TAT. 


made a perfect fool of himself. Was it any won- 
der, then, that I hated the very name of art, and 
that the older I grew the more firmly my dislike 
became rooted ? But it was in vain that I 
reasoned with my father and declared that, unlike 
him, artistic genius, or even talent, had been en- 
tirely omitted from my composition ; his belief to 
the contrary was securely grounded, and he in- 
sisted that at least I should endeavor, to the best 
of my ability, to follow his advice and wishes. 
To please him, therefore, I made the attempt, and 
after two years of hard, unprofitable labor it was 
concluded that I should go abroad to “ finish.” 
Now I had not the slightest objection to going 
abroad, but I demurred strongly at going as an 
art student. I made a final appeal to my in- 
exorable parent. 

^‘Father,” I said, ^^look at these specimens of 
my work during the past year. The more I 
study, the worse they get. Don’t you see it’s of 
no use ? Let me stay at home and raise cattle.” 

Ah ! my boy,” he replied, rubbing his hands 


TIT FOE TAT. 


9 


together with a degi’ee of satisfaction which ex- 
asperated me almost to madness, Home was not 
built in a day. Why, it takes years before you 
can produce anything which is really artistic in 
every sense of the word. Look at the time I 
have spent in study. But I do not regret one 
hour of it, for at the present moment I think I 
may safely say I stand quite alone in my partic- 
ular branch.” 

I glanced round my father’s studio, in which 
we were standing, and thought that certainly his 
last remark was not to be denied. 

Now, look here,” he continued, quite uncon- 
scious of what was passing in my mind, “ Dres- 
den is the place for you. It is one of the great- 
est art centers in Europe. One visit to the Eoyal 
Gallery alone would teach you more than a 
month of study here would do, and then there’s 
the Art School — none better anywhere. Besides 
that, look at the society — German, American, 
English — all nationalities ; in short, you will lead 
an existence a prince might envy.” 


10 


TIT FOE TAT. 


“ If I were a prince par Tiasardj'^ I thought, 
with what intense delight would I make away 
with my palettes, brushes, colors, and all the rest 
of an artist’s paraphernalia.” However, after 
much discussing and arguing, it was finally de- 
cided that I should go to Dresden, and to Dres- 
den I went. 

It was the month of June when I arrived in 
the Saxon capital. The air was balmy and de- 
licious — spring just developing into summer — an 
atmosphere totally unknown to our Ameilcan cli- 
mate. It was my first experience in a foreign 
city, and the impression it made upon me was 
decidedly pleasant. Had I wished, I could have 
had all the society I desired, for, as soon as my 
name was registered at the American banker’s, 
cards and invitations were showered plentifully 
upon me — ^for where can one go and not find a 
host of acquaintances ? But, inasmuch as I had 
come to Dresden solely to study, I resolved to 
perform my task — I cannot call it a pleasure, 
conscientiously — ^instead of giving up my time to 


TIT FOR TAT. 


11 


society. Nevertheless, before settling down to 
wort, I undertook to do ” all the sights the city 
and vicinity afforded. I spent a week in the 
picture-gallery, where I first saw the master- 
pieces which inspired those atrocious copies 
hanging over there. Then came the Green 
Vaults, the porcelain factory at Meissen, and 
Saxon Switzerland. At the latter place I fell in 
with a party of Americans who proved to be ex- 
cessively agreeable; and in this way my other- 
wise solitary tour was rendered very enjoyable, 
although climbing mountains was never my 
Sight-seeing over, I returned once more to 
Dresden, and began my work in earnest. I took 
rooms in the Bismarck Platz, and repaired daily 
to the Art School on the Briihl’sche Terrasse, 
where every opportunity was afforded for the 
cultivation of artistic genius. My days were 
spent j)i*^'tty much alike. In the morning, after 
breakfast, I walked down the Prager Strasse to 
the Bruhl’sche Terrasse, passing through the 
wide market-place, whose bright stalls, filled 


12 


TIT FOE TAT. 


with tempting fruits and gay flowers, were a 
favorable contrast to our American institutions 
of that kind. I rarely worked later than four 
o’clock, for I am, as you know, extravagantly 
fond of music, and it was one of my chief de- 
lights to spend an hour in St. Paul’s Cathedral 
and listen to the chorister boys practicing their 
chants and hymns. Later I generally went to 
some out-door concert, where my chief glimpses 
of German life were obtained. This I enjoyed 
beyond everything. The excellent music, the of- 
ficers in their blue and white, or red and black 
uniforms, the glasses of foaming Bairisch and 
Bohmisch bier, the old Hausfrauen with their 
knitting, Frauleins with folded hands and down- 
cast eyes, and the groups of gay Americans and 
English people, laughing, talking, and paying no 
attention whatever to anything or anybody, pro- 
duced an impression upon me that fifty evenings 
at Thomas’s or Gilmore’s would fail to do. 

Such was my life — quiet and inoffensive 
enough, was it not, Tom? And in this way 


TIT FOR TAT. 


13 


the days sped on nntil the middle of July 
was reached : then something happened which 
changed the whole course of things, and made 
me take a greater dislike to art than ever. 

III. 

The weather was becoming very warm, and 
made the close confinement of the Art School 
most irksome and oppressive. For this reason I 
gave up working for so many hours, and gen- 
erally left between two and three in the after- 
noon. 

On this particular occasion which I atn about 
to mention, I had conceived the insane idea of 
copying the Sistine Madonna. That I, without 
talent, or even taste, should aspire to succeed 
where thousands of the best artists in the world 
have utterly failed, will perhaps seem to you the 
height of presumption and arrogance; but I 
sought to justify my behavior by the thought 
that, since I was capable of producing nothing 


14 


TIT FOR TAT. 


that had the slightest pretension to artistic value, 
it mattered little what I painted. 

What will probably appear to you still more 
inconsistent, is the fact that I did not copy from 
the original in the Eoyal Gallery. The truth is, 
Tom, I was so fully aware of my incapacity as 
an artist, that I was positively ashamed to ex- 
pose my ignorance before the mass of strangers 
which always overruns the gallery in summer. I 
therefore contented myself with a most excellent 
copy which hung in the Art School. 

The morning on which I began this masterly 
production was unusually warm. All the win- 
dows of the long studio building stood wide 
open. There was no sound without save the 
voices of the passers-by on the Terrasse, varied, 
from time to time, by the noise of a steamboat on 
the river. Now that I had undertaken to repro- 
duce the Madonna, I felt less inclined to work, 
and more discouraged than ever. However, I 
settled myself bravely to my task, and began to 
sketch in the outlines of the picture. Try as I 


TIT FOR TAT. 


15 


would, tlie expression of tlie faces would not 
come right. My Madonna looked as if she were 
suffering from toothache, and the two little 
cherubs beneath appeared anything but angelic. 
Tired and disgusted at my utter inability, I at 
last threw down my palette and brushes with a 
gesture of impatience, and, seizing my hat, saun- 
tered out into the open air. 

I looked at my watch. It was only one 
o’clock, and the heat was intense. What could 
I do to while away the afternoon ? Where 
should I go ? IN’ot to the gallery, for I was 
in no mood to look at pictures. I might sit 
awhile in the cafe up yonder on the Terrasse 
and cool myself with an ice; but then the 
cafe was filled with a parcel of ill-mannered 
noisy Germans drinking beer and smoking vile 
tobacco. No; I certainly would not go to 
the caf^. I had half made up my mind to 
go to my rooms in the Bismarck Platz and 
devote myself to that most uninteresting of 
all occupations, namely, writing letters to my 


16 


TIT FOR TAT. 


anxious family at liome, when my attention 
was suddenly attracted by an altogether un- 
expected and novel sight. A young girl was 
seated at the top of the broad flight of steps 
leading down to the street below. Her face 
was hidden in her hands, and she appeared 
to be in gi’eat distress. By her side stood a 
basket fllled with bouquets of fresh violets 
and garden roses. She was evidently only a 
common flower-girl, and under ordinary cir- 
cumstances I should probably have passed by 
without noticing her, and yet somehow the 
sight of her grief interested me at once. I 
approached her gently. She must have heard 
the noise made by my footsteps, but she re- 
mained perfectly motionless, evidently absorbed 
in her sorrow. I ventured to make a re- 
mark. 

Will you sell me some of your flowers ? ” I 
asked. At the sound of my voice she raised her 
head, apparently somewhat startled. She had 
a beautiful face — as totally unlike the typical 


TIT FOR TAT. 


17 


Gretcliens and JBlumenmddcIien of tlie Father- 
land as it was possible to be — the blue eyes, 
rosy cheeks, and braided flaxen hair of the 
ordinary Saxon peasant were wanting here. 
On the contrary, her brilliant black eyes and 
olive complexion would have induced any one 
to pronounce her an Italian; and I thought 
so myself until she spoke. She hastily dried 
her eyes on the corner of her blue apron in 
rather a sullen manner, I thought, and then 
pushed the basket toward me. 

• ^^Does the gnadiger Herr prefer roses or 
violets ? ” 

“I will leave that to you,’’ I answered. “You 
shall choose for me. But, flrst of all, tell me 
why you were crying just now.” 

“ That can matter nothing to a gentleman like 
you,” she replied, rather independently it oc- 
curred to me, and at the same time, as though 
anxious to change ^he subject, she selected a 
small bunch of violets from the basket and 

offered them to me. 

2 


18 


TIT FOR TAT. 


I took tke flowers and threw some money into 
her lap. She eyed the coins greedily, just as a 
starving dog might look at a bone, and then 
shook her head. 

Ach^ nein ! ” she said sadly, my poor violets 
are not worth half so much.” 

Never mind,” I answered gayly, “take half 
for the flowers and keep the rest for your tears. 
By the by, what is your name ? ” 

“ Lottchen.” 

“ And how old are you ? ” 

“Nearly seventeen.” 

“ You cannot come often to the Terrasse, or I 
should have seen you before. Where do you 
usually sell your flowers ? ” 

“Sometimes on the BUrgerwiese, sometimes 
over yonder in the Neustadt.” 

“Well, Lottchen, if you will come here eveiy 
day, you will always find a ready purchaser 
in me.” 

She thanked me gratefully, and as two gentle- 
men at this moment approached her, I fastened 


TIT FOR TAT. 


19 


tlie violets in my buttonliole, nodded good-day, 
and ran lightly down the steps. 

After all, the weather was not so warm as I 
thought ; the air seemed to have cooled off won- 
derfully now that I was out of that close studio. 
I walked up the narrow Schloss Strasse, past the 
brilliant arrays of smiling Dresden shepherds 
and shepherdesses in the shop- windows, and 
as I walked I thought of Lottchen. She was 
only a flower-girl, and yet she interested me 
strangely. What a glorious face she had ! Ah ! 
had I been a real artist, instead of a sham one, 
what a magnificent picture I could have made of 
her, just as I had seen her to-day — her dark eyes 
appealing so piteously for sympathy, and the 
basket of roses and violets on her arm. 

I did not go to any concert that evening. 
Somehow my usually gay spirits seemed to take 
a melancholy turn. I stretched myself at full 
length on the sofa in my own room, and begged 
my landlady to lend me a German novel, with 
which I hoped to partially, if not completely, 


20 


TIT FOR TAT. 


banisli my despondent thoughts. She sent me 
“The Sorrows of Werther,” and over this cheer- 
ful piece of literature I fell sound asleep, and 
dreamed that I was once more standing beside 
Lottchen in the Terrasse ; only, instead of flowers, 
her basket was filled wdth huge slices of bread 
and butter, one of which she fastened to the 
buttonhole of my coat. 


IV. 

On the following morning things seemed to 
go worse than usual. My Sistine Madonna 
positively refused to bear the slightest resem- 
blance to the original, and the more I worked 
the more disgusted I became with myself and 
the picture. As soon as half-past one struck, 
I put away all my materials and left the build- 
ing. Lottchen was nowhere to be seen, so I 
walked over to the edge of the Terrasse, and, 
leaning on the iron railing, looked down at the 


TIT FOE TAT. 


21 


blue river and at tlie bustle and traffic on tbe 
bridge leading over to tbe Neustadt. 

Presently I turned my bead and saw Lottcben 
coming down tbe broad walk, with tbe sunlight 
shining upon her through the branches of the 
linden-trees which bordered the path on each 
side. She caught sight of me almost immedi- 
ately, and approached me smiling. There were 
no traces of tears on her face to-day. 

Ah, Lottcben,” I said, so you have not 
forgotten me ? ” 

She did not reply, but held her basket toward 
me, inviting me silently to help myself. 

I selected the flowers I wished, and drew some 
money from my pocket to pay for them. 

Again I noticed the same eager, greedy look 
come into her eyes that I had observed the day 
before, and I confess it rather startled me. 

She seemed to notice what was passing in my 
mind, for the disagreeable expression instantly 
died from her face as her eyes met mine, and she 
said softly : 


22 


TIT FOR TAT. 


All ! how very good it must feel to be rich, 
and to go about like that with one’s pockets 
stuffed with gold.” 

“Very likely; but I am not rich, Lottchen. 
On the contrary, I shall very soon have to work 
for my living, just as you do.” 

u ” exclaimed the girl incredulously, 

“ how can that be possible ? Gentlemen do not 
work.” 

“ In my country all gentlemen work,” I said, 
smiling. 

“ Do English gentlemen work like the peasants 
do here ? ” 

“Not precisely, I imagine. But I am not an 
Englishman, I am an American.” 

“ An American ! ” Lottchen’s black eyes 
opened very wide. “ Ah, then the gnadiger Herr 
must be very rich. All Americans are rich.” 

What on earth can she know about it? I 
thought. Then aloud I said : 

“ Undoubtedly a great many of them are ; but 
unfortunately it has not pleased Heaven to make 


TIT FOR TAT. 


23 


me one of tlie number. Only think, I shall 
probably have to support myseK all my life long 
by painting pictures.” 

I made this latter remark with some hesitation, 
for in my wildest flights of imagination I could 
never fancy a possible purchaser for even the 
most presentable of my productions — and when I 
thought of my Madonna I actually felt sick. 

But Lottchen adhered to her argument with 
that invincible obstinacy of which the Euro- 
pean peasant alone is capable. 

“If you are an American,” she said, “you 
must be rich, for I have been told that all Amer- 
icans are rich. You may paint pictures to amuse 
yourself ; but for a support ! Ach Gott ! das 
ware ja zu homisch ! ” 

As I talked to her I found the shyness which 
had pervaded her manner at our first meeting 
gradually wear off, and in a short time she 
appeared completely at her ease with me. I 
took advantage of this to ask her once more why 
I had found her in such distress the day before. 


24 


TIT FOE TAT. 


“You are very good, Herr, to trouble yourself 
about me,” she said gently. “ After all, it was 
only a trifle that worried me. My mother is very 
old, but up to the past week she has been able 
to support herself by making lace. A few days 
ago, however, she fell ill, and was obliged to give 
up her work, so that it was left to me to make 
both ends meet in our little household expenses. 
Yesterday was a bad day, though. 'No one 
seemed to want my flowers, and the whole 
morning long I did not sell even one mark’s 
worth. It troubled me very much, for hitherto, 
although we have been poor, we have kept out 
of debt. But when you came, gnadiger Herr, 
and paid me five times the worth of my violets, 
a weight seemed lifted from my heart. I told 
my mother when I went home of the kind 
English Herr — thought you were English — 
who had given me so much money, and who had 
promised to buy from me every day. Du lieher 
Ilimmell I never saw her so glad in my life 
before. It did my heart good to look at her.” 


TIT FOR TAT. 


25 


You and your motlier live all alone, then?” 

“ Yes, quite alone.” 

“Well, Lottchen, be sure not to forget my 
violets every day, and as long as I am in 
Dresden I shall see that you want for nothing.” 

She thanked me, wished me a smiling “ guten 
Tagj"* and went on her way along the Terrasse, 
offering her sweet-smelling bouquets to the 
passers-by. 

I did not go straight home that day, but, 
instead, crossed the bridge and went over to 
the Neustadt, and seated myseK on a bench 
opposite the Caserne. A company of soldiers 
was just entering, headed by an officer in very 
tight trousers and a very long sword, which he 
brandished aloft as though preparing to decapi- 
tate some imaginary enemy. The heat and the 
march together had not tended to improve the 
personal appearance of the men. They all 
looked ready to drop. 

I myself was anything but comfortable, sitting 
there with nothing between me and the sun but 


26 


TIT FOR TAT. 


the very smallest thing in the shape of a tree 
that can possibly be imagined ; but the solitude 
pleased me, for the street was comparatively 
deserted, and all the soldiers had disappeared 
within the precincts of the barracks. My 
thoughts went rapidly over the events of the 
past two days, and after much mature reflection 
and prudent reasoning, I came to the true but 
unflattering conclusion that I was making a fool 
of myself. 

Philip, my friend,” I said, addressing myself 
unconsciously, “ do not, I beg of you, relapse into 
a state of comjDlete idiocy. If time hangs heavy 
on your hands, and you are in need of society, 
why, in Heaven’s name, don’t you seek it among 
your acquaintances here ? Is it possible that you 
have come to Dresden with no other purpose 
than that of making yourself the laughing-stock 
of the town by hanging about the most conspic- 
uous highways in company with a flower-girl — a 
vulgar, uneducated, German peasant? If some 
of your friends at home had seen you this morn- 


TIT FOE TAT. 


27 


ing, you never would have heard the end of it. 
No; take my advice, stick to your paints and 
brushes, and leave pretty flower-girls alone, or 
you surely will live to regret it.” 

Oh ! that I had followed my own counsel. 
But then a man never pays any attention to the 
advice of his dearest and best friend, so why 
should he be expected to follow the admonitions 
of his own brain ? 

I continued to see Lottchen every day. My 
Madonna progressed slowly, but in August I 
finished it, if you can call such a daub finished 
at all; and then I began that other thing, the 
Magdalen. 

The weather grew hotter, and my hours for 
working shorter. I hated the confinement of the 
studio, and I loved being out in the open air, 
talking to Lottchen. 

One day I made my appearance on the Ter- 
rasse rather earlier than usual. I had not looked 
forward to seeing Lottchen for a good half hour 
yet ; but, to my utter astonishment, I perceived 


28 


TIT FOR TAT. 


lier standing at a little distance from me, appa- 
rently in close conversation with a stranger, a 
man of her own class. His whole aspect and 
manner were decidedly unprepossessing. He 
was roughly dressed, in coarse, ill-made clothes, 
and his face wore an unquestionably disagree- 
able expression. Lottchen’s attitude toward him 
surprised me still more. She seemed to be 
pleading with him for something which he 
was evidently unwilling to gi^ant. Her hands 
were clasped nervously together, and her large, 
troubled eyes raised to his. 

I stood still and watched them intently. Evi- 
dently they had no idea of my close proximity, 
for they continued their conversation apparently 
heedless of all that was passing around them. 
Suddenly, however, Lottchen turned her head in 
my direction, and saw me. She said something 
hurriedly to her companion, who also turned, 
looked at me earnestly for an instant, made some 
reply to her, and then walked off in an opposite 
dii^ection. 


TIT FOR TAT. 


29 


Lottchen stood for a moment watching him, 
and then, seeing that I made no effort to ap- 
proach her, she advanced toward me somewhat 
timidly. 

I confess that I was rather vexed at the scene 
I had just witnessed. Who was this coarse, vul- 
gar-looking fellow, who seemed to be on such 
familiar terms with Lottchen, and why was she 
evidently ashamed that I should see her in his 
company? Yes, I was decidedly ill-humored, 
and must have shown it in my face, for I noticed 
that Lottchen blushed as she spoke to me, and 
that she was unmistakably embarrassed. 

She wished me a simple guten Tag^ gnadiger 
Herr^"' and offered me her flowers, making no al- 
lusion whatever to the stranger who had just left 
her. 

But if she was determined to ignore the sub- 
ject, I was not. 

Lottchen,” I said, assuming a severe tone, 
and frowning ominously, “who was that man, 
and what did he want of you ? ” 


30 


TIT FOR TAT. 


The girl’s embarrassment increased, and tears 
sprang into her eyes. 

lAeber Herr^ I would rather not tell you,” 
she answered, in a low voice. 

^^But, Lottchen, I insist. You will probably 
say it is no business of mine, and perhaps you 
are right ; but you may be sure that it is only 
my interest in you which prompts me to be so 
determined upon a subject that otherwise would 
not cause me a moment’s thought. If anything 
troubles you, tell me frankly, and I will do my 
utmost to help you.” 

^^No,” she answered, this time without raising 
her eyes to my face, have nothing to worry 
me now. You think, perhaps, that the man you 
saw me with is my lover. He is not that.” 

What is he to you then ? ” 

“ I have never spoken of it to any one, and yet, 
if I must tell it, I would rather it should be to 
you, because I feel sure you would understand 
and not blame me too much.” 

I do not think I should blame you, Lott- 


TIT FOR TAT. 


31 


chen, you do not look capable of anything very 
wrong.” 

The fact is, I was so relieved to hear the man 
was not her lover, that all the ill-humor vanished 
from my face, and I was quite prepared to meet 
any other announcement she might make with 
smiling good-nature. 

I would rather not have told you,” continued 
Lottchen ; but, since you insist, I will do so, for 
you have been very good to me. Gnadiger Herr^ 
the man you saw me with is my brother.” 

“ Your brother ! ” After all, I was not quite 
prepared for this. 

“ Yes, my only brother. There would be no 
shame in that,” she? went on, with a little sigh; 
“ but, unfortunately, he is not a good man. He 
left us years ago, and my mother thinks him 
dead, but I see him from time to time.” 

What does he want of you — money ? ” 

^Wes.” 

And instead of handing him over to the city 
authorities, you give it to him, of course ? ” 


32 


TIT FOR TAT. 


The withering sarcasm intended to be con- 
veyed in this speech was evidently lost upon 
Lottchen. 

^^He is my brother; I cannot forget that,” she 
said. 

Lottchen,” I said impatiently, listen to me. 
You are talking perfect nonsense. If that man, 
your brother as you say, ever troubles you again, 
let me know, and I will see that it is the last 
time he ventures to approach you. Will you 
promise to let me know ? ” 

“ No ; I cannot promise you that.” 

“ Why not ? ” 

‘^Because he is my brother.” 

“Lottchen,” I cried, now really angry, “you 
are a little fool, and I’m sorry I took the trouble 
to question you about the matter at all. Since it 
apparently gives you pleasure to have this man 
following you about, why see him every day if 
you like, and give him every pfennig you earn. 
It’s none of my business. Only don’t expect me 
to encourage your folly with my patronage.” 


TIT FOR TAT. 


33 


With these words I turned my back upon her 
and was walking off in a towering rage, when I 
heard her light step behind me and felt the touch 
of her hand upon my arm. 

Ideher HenfrJ'' she said, caressingly, do not 
be angry with me. I will promise you what 
you asked.” 

I was instantly mollified. 

“ You see, Lottchen,” I remarked in the most 
patronizing tone I could command, it is all for 
your own good. If I did not take an interest in 
you, I would not care how many wicked brothers 
you had, or how much they persecuted you.” 

V. 

Summer was rapidly deepening into autumn ; 
we were in September now, and already signs 
of approaching winter were becoming visible. 
Most of the strangers who had been spending 
the season in Dresden were preparing to leave, 

and the concerts and places of amusement were 
3 


34 


TIT FOR TAT. 


but thinly attended. All this, however, mat- 
tered little to me, for I kept more to myself 
than ever. Since the appearance of Lottchen’s 
brother, nothing unusual had occurred. My art 
studies advanced neither more nor less success- 
fully than was their wont. I was still at work 
upon the Magdalen, and still perfectly aware 
that I had mistaken my vocation, or rather, 
that my father had mistaken it for me. Several 
times I had been on the point of writing home 
to my family, and requesting permission to 
abandon art, return to my native shores, and 
pursue the unromantic but highly practical 
occupation of cattle-raising, on which my heart 
was still fixed. However, I never did so. I 
enjoyed my life in Dresden, quiet though it 
was. I was fond of the out-door life, the 
music, and, above all, my daily meetings with 
Lottchen, which had become such a matter of 
habit that I should have felt utterly lost 
without them. Not that I was in the least 
bit in love with the girl, Tom. Thank Heaven, 


TIT FOE TAT. 


35 


I never got quite so far as that. No; as I 
look back on it now, I think I can truthfully 
say I never felt any stronger sentiment for 
her than a mere brotherly interest. You may 
laugh if you will, but it’s a fact. 

Now (continued Philip, helping himself to 
a fresh cigar), I am coming to the tragic part 
of my story. 

I found Lottchen one day on the Terrasse in 
tears. It immediately occurred to me that her 
villainous-looking brother had been tormenting 
her again, and I resolved to put a stop to it 
at once. 

Lottchen,” I said, my voice trembling with 
indignation, you need not tell me why you 
are crying, for I know already. What has he 
been saying to you ? If he has dared to 
threaten you. I’ll break every bone in his body.” 

The girl wiped her eyes and looked at me 
vaguely. 

Of whom are you speaking, gnadiger Herr ? ” 

«Why, your brother, of course. Who else 


36 


TIT FOE TAT. 


could bring all those tears to your pretty 
eyes?” 

“ I have not seen my brother for a long while ; 
not since that day when you found us talking 
together. No, it is not that which troubles me.” 

Tell me, then, what has happened.” 

Lottchen’s tears began to flow afresh. 

Ach Gott! it is my mother, my poor, old 
mother ! I fear she is dying.” 

‘^Your mother dying! How long has she 
been ill?” 

Only since yesterday. Ah 1 if you would 
only help me. But I hardly dare to ask you.” 

‘^You know, Lottchen, that whatever you re- 
quire of me, if it be in my power, I will perform 
gladly. Now, what do you want me to do for 
your mother? Shall I send her some fruit — a 
case of wine ?” 

Du lieher! I would never think of asking 
such a favor as that, only I thought, as you had 
been so very kind to me, perhaps you would not 
mind coming with me to see her for a few mo- 


TIT FOE TAT. 


37 


ments. She has heard me speak of you every 
day, and she is anxious, very anxious, to see you 
once. It is not very far from here that we 
live, and I think she would die happier if she 
could let her eyes rest for one minute on the 
kind Amerihaner who has done so much for 
me.” 

I was really touched. Here, at last, was the 
gratitude which I had never expected to find in 
this world, and coming from a simple, unedu- 
cated German girl, too ! It was almost incredi- 
ble, but the situation also had its ridiculous side. 
Philip Eandolph, stopping daily to buy a bou- 
quet of violets and chat a few moments with the 
fair vender, was all very well ; but Philip Kan- 
dolph, walking through the crowded thorough- 
fares of Dresden side by side with this same per- 
son, would certainly create a sensation. How- 
ever, there was no help for it. I could not offend 
her by refusing such a request ; so, inwardly call- 
ing upon Providence to spare me the mortification 
of meeting any acquaintances, I cheerfully replied 


38 


TIT FOR TAT. 


that it would give me the greatest pleasure to 
accompany her. 

I was very fond of Lottchen in a certain way, 
and I really was pleased to have this opportu- 
nity of doing her a service ; but I also had all a 
man’s horror of being made to appear ridiculous ; 
and, as I look back upon the figure I must have 
cut that day, Tom, a cold perspiration breaks out 
all over me, and a shiver runs up my back to the 
very roots of my hair. To say that the people 
stared, would but faintly express the torture I 
endured from their piercing eyes. A person who 
has never resided in the Fatherland can form, no 
idea of what the average Teuton is capable in 
this respect. It is like Niagara — ^no one knows 
what it is until they see it for themselves. And, 
indeed, the sight of a fashionably dressed young 
man parading the streets in company with a peas- 
ant girl carrying a basket of fiowers on her arm, 
must have been a novel spectacle in Saxony. 

Lottchen’s usually quick perception seemed to 
desert her on this occasion, for she apparently 


TIT FOR TAT. 


89 


saw nothing at all out of the way in regard to 
the situation. This I attributed to her evident 
anxiety about her mother. 

Poor girl ! ” I thought, “ how she suffers ! ” 

There was little or no conversation between 
us. I concluded that Lottchen was not in a 
mood for talking, and I am perfectly sure that I 
was not. We walked on through several dingy, 
dirty streets, in an unfrequented part of the 
town, fortunately, until we came to one that was 
dingier and dirtier than all the rest. Lottchen 
stopped short in front of a tall stone house, very 
shabby and out of repair. 

“You are quite sure you do not mind coming 
up ? ” she asked, raising her sad eyes to mine for 
the first time. “ It is on the third fioor that we 
live.” 

The place, certainly, was anything but invit- 
ing, and I glanced at the filthy staircase inside 
with a shudder; but I was too proud to turn 
back at this stage, and, moreover, very unwilling 
to hurt Lottchen’s feelings. 


40 


TIT FOE TAT. 


you will follow me/’ she said, will 
show you the way up.” 

She began to ascend the narrow stairway, 
and I followed close behind her. The boards 
creaked at every step, and there was no light 
whatever to make the way clear for us. The at- 
mosphere smelt; damp and moldy, and I racked 
my brain in a vain attempt to discover how a 
person like Lottchen, so superior in refinement to 
the rest of her class, could exist in such a miser- 
able hole. ' 

We arrived, finally, at the third fioor. Lott- 
chen advanced toward a door in the front part of 
the house, and pushed it open. 

Come in,” she said to me. 

I entered the room; it was almost in total 
darkness. I could see nothing — absolutely noth- 
ing. Overcome with astonishment, I was on the 
point of turning to Lottchen to inquire if she 
had not mistaken the place, when she suddenly 
caught me by the arm, drew me forward, and 
hastily turned the key in the lock of the door. 


TIT FOR TAT. 


41 


At the same moment the forms of two men 
emerged quickly from the obscurity at the far 
end of the room and seized me by both wrists. 

“Here he is, Fritz,” said Lottchen’s voice. 
“ Fasten his arms, and then give the things to me 
as you get them.” 

All this was the work of a second. I was so 
completely taken oE my guard that my arms 
were tightly pinioned behind me before I could 
make the slightest resistance. Although the 
room was barely lighted, I had no difficulty in 
recognizing one of the men as the same whom I 
had seen in the Terrasse with Lottchen. The 
other was a perfect stranger. 

Once convinced of the object they had in 
view, I made every effort to free myself, but all 
in vain. When my arms were securely tied be- 
hind my back and a gag placed in my mouth, 
the two men proceeded to empty my pockets. 
Fortunately, I had very little money on my per- 
son, but what there was they calmly appropri- 
ated and handed to Lottchen, who stood by, 


42 


TIT FOR TAT. 


watching the performance with a degree of inter- 
est which, had the circumstances been different, 
I should have found charming. My watch was 
next secured, and my scarf-pin, which was a 
pearl of great value, set so as to form the body 
of a demon ; then my shirt-studs and a seal ring. 
These, likewise, were given into Lottchen’s keep- 
ing. 

“Is that all, Fritz ? ” she asked. 

“I don’t see anything more; do you, Wil- 
helm?” inquired the supposed brother. “You 
had better take what you’ve got, Lottchen, and 
be off.” 

The gild produced a large cotton handkerchief 
from her pocket, in which she carefully placed 
my stolen possessions; then she moved slowly 
toward the door. 

“ GuUn Tag^ Herr Ameri'kaner^'^ she said, 
dropping me a low courtesy. 

If my hands had only been free, I would 
have strangled her. 

After Lottchen’s departure, the two men left 


TIT FOE TAT. 


43 


me standing in tlie middle of the room, still 
bound and gagged, while they retired to a 
distant corner to hold a little private conver- 
sation. For nearly a quarter of an hour, I 
should think, they whispered together, and 
then approaching me once more, they removed 
the gag from my mouth, leaving my arms still 
bound, and quitted the room without speak- 
ing, locking the door behind them. 

VI. 

When I found myself imprisoned in that vile 
den, in addition to being basely deceived and 
robbed, my rage knew no bounds. I shouted 
myself hoarse, stamped on the floor, and rushed 
wildly to and fro, hoping to discover some 
means of exit; but all in vain. The house 
was painfully quiet ; not a sound was to be 
heard, save the noise now and then caused by 
a passing vehicle in the street. Oh ! if I could 
only get one of those windows open, so that I 


44 


TIT FOR TAT. 


miglit call for help ! And Lottchen ! what a 
fiend in human shape. Words fail me when 
I attempt to describe the impression left upon 
me by her deceitful and outrageous conduct. 
My blood actually boiled at the thought of 
her. Now that her nature was fully revealed 
to me in all its hideousness, I could recall 
many a look and word which would at once 
have aroused the suspicions of any other man 
than myself. I remembered how eagerly she 
had eyed the silver coin with which I had 
paid her for her miserable fiowers, and how 
she had endeavored in more than one round- 
about way to discover the exact condition of 
my financial circumstances. Oh ! fool, dolt, 
idiot that I had been ! I could have wept 
from sheer vexation and mortification. And 
how was I ever to get out of this frightful 
place? They could not certainly leave me 
here to starve. Probably they only locked 
the door to frighten me, and would come 
back later and release me. 


TIT FOR TAT. 


45 


In the meanwhile the afternoon wore on. I 
had no idea of the time, and no way of ascer- 
taining it. My watch was gone, but had I 
possessed fifty of them, of what use would 
they have been while my hands were tied 
behind my back ? 

I grew desperate, calling loudly for help, and 
stamping on the rotten boards of the floor 
until I was dn imminent danger of falling 
through to the next story. I must have kept 
this up for fully an hour ; my voice and 
strength were beginning to fail me, and I 
was about to throw myself upon the floor 
and abandon myself to utter despair, when 
a sound resembling an approaching footstep 
caught my ear. I shouted once more loudly, 
and then listened. Yes, some one was coming, 
without a doubt. I grew breathless with sus- 
pense. In another moment I heard a fumbling 
at the latch of the door, then the key was 
turned, and a very old woman appeared upon 
the threshold. As she caught sight of my 


46 


TIT FOE TAT. 


disheveled figure, she started back with up- 
raised arms. 

“ Herr Je ! ’’ she ejaculated, eyes and mouth 
wide open with astonishment. 

I rushed toward her frantically. 

Here, old woman,” I cried, undo my arms, 
if you please, and then stare afterward. I 
have been robbed and shut up in this infernal 
hole for hours.” 

Herr JeP'' said the woman once ‘more; then, 
seeming all at once to grasp the situation, she 
advanced further into the room, and proceed- 
ed to untie my arms. The operation required 
some time, for the villains had done their 
work in the most approved fashion, and the 
old woman’s fingers were shaky; but finally 
the task was accomplished, and I was a free 
man again. 

I did not stop a moment to question my 
benefactor, not even to inquire how she dis- 
covered my presence in the room. I simply 
muttered a few words of thanks, and flew 


TIT FOR TAT. 


47 


like a madman down tke staircase into the 
street. There was not a soul to be seen. I 
walked on for a little distance, hailed a pass- 
ing droschky, and drove straight to the Bis- 
marck Platz. I had some money in my room, 
with which I paid the driver. I then pro- 
ceeded to pack carefully all my belongings, 
including the two pictures, the last one being 
just finished. This done, I sought my land- 
lady, announced my sudden departure from 
Dresden, paid her a week’s lodging, and then, 
calling a second droschky, drove to my 
bankers. There I drew all the money de- 
posited in my name, and made arrangements 
to have my luggage sent for and carried to 
the Leipziger Bahnhof, Finally, I went to a 
restaurant and dined. 

You may perhaps think it strange that I made 
no effort to recover my stolen property, or to dis- 
cover the whereabouts of the thieves. It would 
have been wiser, perhaps ; but tlien to do so was 
to expose my folly to the whole town, and I could 


48 


TIT FOK TAT. 


not have borne the ridicule whicb I felt confident 
would be heaped upon me from all sides. No ; 
better let them go, and myself too. I dined lei- 
surely, and then drove to the railroad station, 
where I took a ticket for Leipzig. 

This was my last appearance in Dresden. 

The next mail carried the following message 
to my father : 

“Deae Fathee: 

have come to the conclusion that I shall 
never succeed as an artist. I have worked 
conscientiously for six months, and find my 
taste for painting decreasing instead of in- 
creasing. This being the case, I have there- 
fore decided, unless you have serious objec- 
tions — ^in which circumstance you can telegraph 
me — ^to take one of the steamers leaving for 
America within a fortnight, and return to my 
native land. 

I trust, after my arrival on the other side, 
you will permit me to cultivate the taste I 


TIT FOR TAT. 


49 


have always had in view — raising cattle. In 
this, at least, I am confident of success. 

Believe me, dear father. 

Your affectionate son, 

Philip KAiq^noLPH.” 

The rest of my story, Tom, is soon told. I 
sailed for America within two weeks following 
my unfortunate adventure, and three days after 
I reached home, my uncle died, leaving me his 
entire foi4une. When this unexpected piece 
of good luck befell me, my father extracted 
a solemn promise from me that 1 would re- 
nounce the vulgar occupation of cattle-raising, 
and live upon my income, as a man of large 
means, in his opinion, ought to do. 

“If you cannot be an artist,” he said with a 
sigh, “ you had better be nothing.” 

That was ten years ago. All this time, those 
pictures have been laying away forgotten. I 
came across them the other day, and the whole 

story connected with them occurred to me so 
4 


50 


TIT FOR TAT. 


vividly that I determined to hang them up, 
hoping they might prove a warning to me 
should I ever happen to be on the brink of 
another piece of folly. 

Philip paused, and for a moment neither of 
us spoke. Then, feeling that it was required 
of me to say something, I broke the silence 
by exclaiming : 

^^My dear fellow, .your story is an excellent 
joke — excellent. At the same time you must* 
acknowledge that you made a frightful ass of 
yourself.” 

Philip evidently had not expected to hear any- 
thing very complimentary, for my candid speech 
was received smilingly. 

^^No one knows that better than I do,” he 
said ; but you must acknowledge, Tom, that 
it was one of those vile plots of which any one 
might become the victim, notwithstanding the 
utmost prudence and caution.” 

Pooh ! ” I exclaimed contemptuously, not a 
bit of it ! Why, to me, it was as plain as the 


TIT FOR TAT. 


51 


nose on your face what the girl was after from 
the very beginning. Couldn’t you see,* from 
the way she pocketed your money and all 
that, that she wanted to rob you ? ” 

“ I saw it, yes,” replied Philip, but, unfortu- 
nately, at a time when my perception was not 
calculated to help me.” 

Well, all I can say,” I observed sagely, ^^is 
that no creature in petticoats, let her be ever so 
beautiful, could possibly take me in in that style. 
If there is one thing I pride myself upon, it 
is the faculty of recognizing a designing female 
when I see one.” 

Philip did not reply immediately, but sat 
gazing into the fire, which had died down 
until it was merely a mass of cinders with a 
few burning coals in the midst. Presently, 
however, he raised himself in his chair, and 
looked at me earnestly. 

Tom,” he said, you may make your mind 
easy on one point. It is a source of great con- 
solation to me at present to be able to look 


52 TIT FOR TAT. 

back and say truthfully, that, in all my inter- 
course with Lottchen, I never felt any stronger 
feehng toward her than mere brotherly inter- 
est.” 


PAET SECOND. 

1 . 

I ^OETUNE, I regret to say, had not been so 
, lavish of her favors in regard to me as she 
had been to Philip Eandolph. There being no 
rich uncle, or any other affluent relative, to leave 
me sole heir to his possessions, I was forced to 
earn my daily bread, so to speak, by the sweat of 
my brow. I was a lawyer, and although fame 
had not yet made my name familiar in every 
court-room, I felt that, nevertheless, I was on the 
road to success, and could, in time, earn an envi- 
able position for myself. 

My office was shared by a young man named 
Harding, who was a person of such very marked 
peculiarities that I cannot resist giving a slight 
description of him. 

At the time from which our friendship dated, 

several years before, he was a thorough society 

53 


54 


TIT FOE TAT. 


man. There was absolutely no limit to his pow- 
ers of endurance in regard to all those little 
pastimes which society invents with the praise- 
worthy but not always successful intention of 
delighting the heart of mankind. He was con- 
tinually on “ the go ” from morning till night ; he 
neglected his professional duties in order to de- 
vote himself to dancing and dinners ; and it was 
the universal opinion of everybody that Arthur 
Harding belonged to that order of gay butterflies 
which regards pleasure as the sole aim of exist- 
ence, and which, in consequence, never settles 
down to anything useful or profitable. 

No one, however, in this world, is infallible; 
and the very people who had hitherto expressed 
their opinions so freely and decidedly upon the 
subject of Mr. Harding, were soon forced to ad- 
mit that they were no more exempt from making 
blunders than the rest of their brothers and 
sisters. This was proved by the fact that the 
object of their remarks suddenly took it upon 
himself to disappoint their expectations in the 


TIT FOE TAT. 


55 


most imforeseen manner imaginable, and without 
any apparent reason for so doing. He gave up 
society, neglecting to give the public any warn- 
ing of bis intention, and, having done so, pro- 
ceeded to absorb himseK in his profession, and to 
devote his leisure hours to the study of philosophy 
and the theory of evolution. 

People looked' at each other significantly, 
shook their heads, and declared that he must 
have been disappointed in love. Perhaps they 
were right; such things have been known to 
happen constantly, and inasmuch as Harding 
made no attempt to explain his very extraordi- 
nary conduct, it was probably the most likely 
conjecture for the world to arrive at. 

I myself, from motives of delicacy, never ques- 
tioned him upon the subject, for I knew that if 
he failed to admit me to his confidence, it was 
for some good reason of his own — always sup- 
posing his behavior to have been actuated by a 
motive ; but I used to joke with him sometimes 
about his reformation, as I called it, for his UasQ 


56 


TIT FOR TAT. 


languid air, upon all occasions, was an absurd 
contrast to bis former exuberant spirits. 

“Clason,” be said to me, one Sunday after- 
noon, amuse yourself at my expense, by all 
means, my dear fellow ; I don’t mind it in tbe 
least. As for myself, I’m past all that. By tbe 
time you reach my age ” — ^be was precisely four 
years my senior — you will doubtless bave dis- 
covered that tbe terms ‘enjoyment’ and ‘pleas- 
ure’ are purely relative. I remember reading, 
not long since, in a book by Herbert Spencer, or 
some other fellow who goes in for tbe same sort 
of thing as be does, that most of tbe emotions we 
experience, or rather think we experience, are en- 
tirely imaginary; for instance, there can be no 
real pleasure, any more than there can be real 
pain, or real anything else. Now, what is your 
opinion on tbe subject?” 

“ I think,” I replied gravely, “ that if some un- 
known and unsuspected force was to bring my 
bead in sharp contact with yours, tbe sensation we 
should both feel would not be purely imaginary.” 


TIT FOE TAT. 


57 


The sense of humor which this observation 
was intended to convey did not seem to strike 
Harding. He merely elevated his eyebrows, 
looked at me for a moment, and then continued : 

“ It is a very puzzling subject to get upon,” he 
said, speaking in a slow monotone, which had be- 
come habitual with him. Sometimes I get the 
ideas so mixed up that I can hardly grasp the 
meaning myself. But, at the same time, there is 
something very fascinating in the study of the 
complex organization of matter; it’s the kind of 
thing you don’t want to stop when you’ve once 
begun at it, don’t you know ? Of course, though, 
you can’t be expected to regard scientific contem- 
plation from the same standpoint that I do, your 
taste being confined to the more insignificant 
questions of life.” 

After making this speech Harding leaned back 
in his chair, as though overcome by the exertion, 
and began to examine his finger-nails with lan- 
guid interest. . • 

“ See here, my dear fellow,” I said, it strikes 


58 


TIT FOE TAT. 


me that your ideas are becoming more — ^more pe- 
culiar every day. Any other person might be 
tempted to call you a fool, but not I, for I know 
you don’t in the least understand what you are 
talking about, and that, if you did, you wouldn’t 
believe a word of it. You are to be pitied, that’s 
all.” 

“ It is you who fail to understand and believe, 
Clason,” replied Harding. “ With all your love 
of argument, you must admit that you have no 
fixed theories upon any subject.” 

“ Of course not ; if I had, I should probably 
have no love of argument — the two things are 
absolutely incompatible.” 

All this is very sad,” said Harding, address- 
ing himself to the table in front of him. 

“ What is ? ” 

This lightness and levity of which you are 
unable to divest yourself, even when the most 
serious subjects are under discussion. I think 
it is Darwin who says — ” 

“ Oh ! hang Damin ! ” I exclaimed, rising 


TIT FOE TAT. 


59 


from my seat and walking over to the win- 
dow. “ Not so very long ago, you were tke 
gayest man in New York, yourself. You went 
in for everything in the shape of pleasure there 
was to be found, and as for talking philoso- 
phy and all such rubbish, why, you would as 
soon have talked about flying over the moon. 
I can’t think what has come to you.” 

Harding sat still for a few moments, gazing at 
the floor; then he lifted his eyes to the chan- 
delier. 

Now that you mention the moon,” he said 
slowly, ^^what are your ideas as to the exist- 
ence of lunar vegetable life ? ” 

I walked away from the window, and ap- 
proaching my friend’s chair, looked him stead- 
ily in the face. 

Well,” he said, “why don’t you answer my 
question ? ” 

“Harding,” I said, “take my advice, will 
you?” 

“ What is your advice ? ” 


60 


TIT FOR TAT. 


“ To go and see a physician immediately, for it 
is my firm opinion that you are suffering from 
softening of the brain.” 


IL 

The conversation related above took place 
about two weeks after Philip Randolph had 
undertaken to communicate his ill-fated ad- 
venture to me. Since then, I had seen 
scarcely anything of him, as I had one or 
two law cases on hand which required my 
immediate attention, and when evening came 
I felt too tired, generally speaking, to do any- 
thing beyond dropping in at the club for an 
hour or so, to play a rubber of euchre. One 
afternoon, however, while Harding and I w^ere 
busy over our writing, the office-door sud- 
denly opened and ^ Philip appeared on the 
threshold. 

“I say, you two fellows,” he remarked, evi- 
dently thinking a more cordial greeting super- 
flous, what are you about ? ” 


TIT FOR TAT. 


61 


If you have anything pleasant to propose,” I 
replied, in my usual humorous strain, we ai*e 
about ready to stop writing and listen.” 

This feeble attempt at a witticism was re- 
ceived by both Harding and Randolph with 
the contempt it deserved. 

^Hwas going to ask,” continued the latter, “if 
you would both join me at the Brunswick this 
evening, for, to tell the truth, I am getting fear- 
fully tired of Adolphe’s eternal Chateaubriand, 
and feel that a change of any kind would do 
me an immense amount of good.” 

Adolphe was the club cli^, 

“ If you mean dinner,” I said, “ I’m your man, 
Phil, and I think I can speak for Harding as 
well.” 

“ Yes,” replied the latter absently ; “ yes — yes, 
of course. I shall be most happy — ^no, I don’t 
mean happy. I should say rather, that I accept 
the invitation you have just given me, and that 
the feelings with which I look forward to this 
evening are most auspicious.” 


62 


TIT FOR TAT. 


^^Drop that, if you please, Harding,” said 
Philip, “or, by Jove, I’ll take it all back and 
say I don’t want you.” Then, drawing out his 
watch : “ Why, hang me, if it isn’t three o’clock, 
and I’ve got an appointment miles away at half- 
past. Well, good-by, or rather, au revoir^ for I 
shall expect you both at seven.” 

When he had gone, Harding, who had ap- 
parently been lost in reverie since his last re- 
mark, ventured to begin another. 

“ What a pity,” he said, “ that a man possess- 
ing the double advantages of wealth and posi- 
tion, like Eandolph, should have so little of the 
true philosopher in his nature.” 

Here he paused, evidently awaiting my reply ; 
finding, however, that I made none, he continued : 

“Every man benefits not only himself but 
the entire human race when he attempts and 
succeeds in a search for the absolute, though 
very few, unfortunately, have the moral force 
necessary for this undertaking. Even persons 
who have abstract principles in regard to cer- 


TIT FOE TAT. 


63 


tain matters in wliicli all are allowed free 
tliouglit, sucli as the existence of a personal 
God or a personal devil, for instance, are very 
often restrained from expressing them by the 
narrow prejudices which, I regret to say, gov- 
ern the actions of most individuals. Now, it 

has frequently come under my observation 

Why, what’s the matter with you, Clason?” 
suddenly glancing toward me and seeing that 
I was absorbed apparently in my writing. I 
really believe you haven’t heard a single word 
I’ve been sa^dng.” 

“I heard you, of course,” I answered; ^^but 
I had no idea you were speaking to me. I 
imagined you to be addressing the chandelier; 
your eyes were certainly cast in that direction.” 

Harding sighed. 

^^You are as bad as all the rest,” he said; 
“I shall never, I fear, be able to implant the 
tme scientific philosophical spirit within you.” 

“ No, you will not,” I replied ; and what’s 
more, if you don’t get on with your work, you 


04 


TIT FOE TAT. 


will have the extreme pleasure of spending the 
evening in writing instead of eating.” 

This observation had the desired effect, for the 
study of scientific philosophy has never yet been 
known to interfere with a man’s appetite, and 
Harding was no exception to the rule ; indeed, I 
do not think I err in stating that, had I offered a 
superior dinner to my friend, on the sole condi- 
tion of his adopting a theory in direct opposition 
to one of his own, he might possibly have been 
induced to accept the sacrifice. 

It was about half past five when Harding and 
I left the office to go and dress for dinner. Our 
way led us up Broadway, among the mass of 
bustling humanity which always infests the 
streets at that time ; but we took very little notice 
of the throng about us. Harding was, as usual, 
lost in thought, and I, for want of something 
better to occupy my mind, was wondering what 
sort of a dinner Philip would give us, and whether 
we should have puree d^asperges or consomme 
printani'ere, or both. At the corner of Fourteenth 


TIT FOR TAT. 


65 


street, however, my attention was suddenly at- 
tracted by the sight of a flaming yellow placard 
on which was printed in enormous red characters : 

GEEMANIA THEATEK. 

THIS EVENING AT 8 o’CLOCK, FOR THE FIRST TIME IN AMERICA, 

SOHILLEE’S WONDEEFIJL DRAMA, 

WILLIAM TELL. 

FRAULEIN MARIE ALTBERG AS BERTHA VON BRUNECK. 

I was not a person given to reading street 
advertisements, and yet, strange to say, this one 
seemed to attract me. I had never been to the 
Germania Theater, but there was no reason why 
I should not go if I wished. A drama by Schil- 
ler must certainly be worth seeing, and the name 
of Marie Altberg had rather a nice sound about 
it. One got awfully tired of all the English 
plays, and I understood German enough to fol- 
low the actors, even if I could not grasp the 

meaning of every word. Perhaps Philip would 
5 


66 


TIT FOR TAT. 


like to go also. He had been in Germany, and 
must care for that sort of thing. Yes, I was 
quite sure Philip would like to go. 

I was rudely awakened from my reverie by 
tho sound of Harding’s voice. 

What on earth,” he inquired, “ are you star- 
ing at ? Why are you standing stock-still with 
your eyes fixed on that placard ? ” 

I don’t know, I’m sure,” I answered. “ Hard- 
ing, have you ever been there ? ” 

“ Been where ? ” asked Harding, who was 
already thinking of something else. 

“ To the Germania Theater.” 

“I think I was there once, a long time ago, 
when I used to care for that sort of thing. I 
have a faint recollection of an exceedingly fat 
woman appearing in the costume of a very young 
child, and singing, Mdms Kindlein hin 

icily'' or something of that sort. I remember 
thinking it a beastly, vulgar sort of place.” 

Vulgar or not, I think I shall go and see for 
myself what it’s worth. Fraulein Marie Altberg 


TIT FOE TAT. 07 

cannot certainly be a fat woman ; at any rate, I 
have conceived a violent fancy to see her.” 

“ Violent fancies,” said Harding, are always 
to be suppressed ; for the results they lead to are 
invariably of an excessively dangerous nature. 
Hot two days ago, I read somewhere — ” 

Never mind that now,” I interrupted ; “ what 
I want to know is, will you come with me ? ” 
Come where ? ” 

“Why, to the theater of course.” 

“Hot I, my dear fellow, you really must excuse 
me. I have long since given up that sort of 
thing, and then again, I don’t think I could stand 
the sight of that stout female. Who knows ? 
She may be there yet.” 

“All right,” I replied good-humoredly, “just 
as you please, of course. But I’ll ask Philip — ^I’m 
sure he will be delighted.” 


68 


TIT FOE TAT. 


III. 

An hour later, we were all three sitting over 
Blue Points and Chablis in a small private room 
at the Brunswick. Harding was making an un- 
successful attempt to draw Philip into a discus- 
sion concerning the origin and development of 
animal life as found in certain forms of sea- weed, 
and at the same time asking his opinion about 
the family of radiates. I was busy with my oys- 
ters, and infinitely regretting that dinner would 
be over at entirely too late an hour to admit of 
my going to the theater even for a few minutes. 

“You must allow,” Harding was saying, hold- 
ing his wine-glass between his forefinger and 
thumb, and twirling it slowly round and round, 
thereby running the risk of spilling half its con- 
tents ; “ you must allow, Randolph, that the in- 
vestigations which have been made of late years 
in regard to polypes are of an exceedingly inter, 
esting character. When I say ^ of late years,’ I 
mean within the present century, of course. I 


TIT FOR TAT. 


69 


myself have the utmost sympathy with this par- 
ticular branch of scientific research as indepen- 
dent of all other branches, and I come honestly 
by the feeling, for the male members of my 
family have always taken a prominent place 
among men of advanced ideas, whose leading 
characteristics are perseverance and resolution 
where a search for the absolute is concerned ; and, 
if I remember rightly, my grandfather wrote his 
work on the Achnanthes suhsessilis when he was 
only twenty-five, and before his death, which 
occurred fifty years later, he published a second 
book, taking for his subject, ^ The Polype, and its 
Mode of Development.’ If you care to have these 
works to read in your moments of idleness, it will 
give me the greatest pleasure to lend them to 
you.” 

Harding did not raise his eyes as he ter- 
minated this speech. Had he done so, he would 
not have been edified by the sudden expression 
of horror which passed over Philip’s counte- 


nance. 


70 


TIT FOE TAT. 


Tlianks,” said tlie latter, when he had some- 
what recovered himself; ^^you are very kind 
indeed, Harding, very kind ; but yon must not 
trouble yourself. Indeed, you really must not 
mention such a thing ; I might lose them, you 
know ; I never can keep a thing more than a day 
without losing it, and besides that” — ^here he 
stopped short, and suddenly observing the broad 
smile with which I was regarding him, we both 
burst out laughing. 

Harding glanced up in some surprise. 

What is the joke, may I ask ? ” he inquired. 

Nothing,” I said, “ except the idea of your 
offering scientific books to Philip. Don’t you 
know that his mind is not capable of compre- 
hending anything of a more classical nature than 
Wilkie Collins or Cherbuliez ? If you give him 
something heavier than that, you are casting 
pearls before swine.” 

Thank you, Thomas,” said Philip; “that is 
precisely what I should have said myself, if you 
had given me the chance. When I read, I want 


TIT FOR TAT. 


71 


to be amused; and certainly a history of the 
Achnanthes what-do-you-call-it, with all defer- 
ence to your grandfather, Harding, cannot be 
very amusing.” 

“ Ah, by the by, Philip,” I said, “ speaking of 
amusement, have you ever been to the German 
theater ? The Germania, you know.” 

Philip frowned at me over his glass of Cham- 
bertin. Don’t mention German theater to me,” 
he said, “ or German anything else. They are a 
vile people ; they speak a viler language; they eat 
vilest dinners. I hope never to have occasion to 
associate with them again.” 

^^Who wants you to associate with them? I 
asked you a simple question; why don’t you an- 
swer it ? ” 

“You asked me if I had ever been to the Ger- 
man theater ; my answer implied that I had not, 
and heaven forbid that I ever should go.” 

“Beastly, vulgar place,” said Harding, drop- 
ping suddenly from scientific contemplation to 
commonplace observation. “ I told Clason so this 


72 


TIT FOE TAT. 


afternoon, but be seems to bave gone out of bis 
mind on tbe subject. You probably will not be- 
lieve me when I tell you be stood fully five min- 
utes on tbe comer of tbe street, staring at a 
placard, on wbicb tbe company was advertised to 
appear in some low comedy or other tbat nobody 
ever beard of.” 

Low comedy ! ” I exclaimed derisively. Per- 
haps you are not aware tbat it was written by 
Schiller, and also tbat it was not a comedy at 
all ! Probably you never beard of Schiller ! ” 

Schiller,” said Harding, relapsing once more 
into bis languid manner of speech, “was, un- 
doubtedly, a great poet, but I bave not much 
faith in anything be may bave written in tbe 
way of a drama ; and as for bis philosophy, I 
fear it was very unevenly balanced. Now, tbat 
other one, Goethe, was more sound in bis ideas; 
be—” 

“ Will you go with me or not, Philip ? ” I asked. 
“ Of course, if tbe mere mention of tbe German 
language recalls your lamentable experience in 


TIT FOE TAT. 


73 


Dresden, I would not press tlie matter for tlie 
world.” 

Experience ! what experience ? ” asked Hard- 
ing, evincing an interest which might have been 
due to the wine, or else have arisen spontane- 
ously. am always fond of listening to ex- 
periences.” 

Mine does not amount to much,” said Philip. 

It is merely an incident which occurred ten years 
ago, while I was in Dresden. I made a fool of 
myself over a peasant girl with a pretty face, and 
she rewarded my kindness by robbing me. Noth- 
ing at all unusual, I suppose.” 

‘‘ Ah ! ” said Harding, “ the lower orders of Eu- 
ropeans, particularly the Germans, have always 
been characterized by an excessive love of greed. 
They ‘will steal anything they can lay their 
hands upon, for the mere pleasure of stealing. 
Some learned men, I believe, have recently 
brought the facts of this subject down to a 
purely scientific basis. It must be, I should 
think, a very interesting study.” 


74 


TIT FOR TAT. 


“ It was anything but interesting to me, I can 
assure you,” said Philip ; but tell me, Tom,” he 
continued, turning to me, ^^what has caused this 
violent enthusiasm in regard to the German thea- 
ter ? Are you smitten with the charms of one of 
the actresses, a lovely creature who talks Platt- 
deutschj and arrays herself in a costume resem- 
bling Joseph’s celebrated coat?” 

Nothing of the kind,” I replied. “ I have 
never thought of going there any more than you 
have, and, for the life of me, I can’t tell you why 
I want to go now. I saw the advertisement in 
the street, and was attracted by the title of the 
play and the name of the young woman who is 
to take the principal role, I have conceived a 
violent fancy to see both — that is all.” 

“I remarked to Clason, that no person who 
properly respects himself is ever led away by 
violent fancies. They should always be sup- 
pressed ; they should, indeed,” said Harding. 

Philip helped himself to supreme de vo- 
latile. 


TIT FOE TAT. 


75 


What is the name of the young woman ? ” 
he asked. 

“ Fraulein Marie Altberg.” 

Pooh ! ” said Philip contemptuously, whaPs 
in a name ? Take my word for it, she is some 
antiquated female with feet a yard long and a 
waist like a beer-barrel.” 

Precisely,” said Harding vaguely ; they al- 
ways are.” 

^^Well,” I said, in no wise discouraged, “I am 
determined to go at any rate, and if neither of 
you will accept an invitation to accompany me, 
why, I shall go alone, though it’s only a matter 
of curiosity with me, I can assure you. Had you 
mentioned such a thing yesterday, I should prob- 
ably have laughed at you.” 

Just as we are doing now,” suggested Philip. 

''Yes,” I answered, "just exactly as you are 
doing now.” 


76 


TIT FOR TAT. 


IV. 

It was about eight o’clock on the following 
evening when I entered the Germania Theater 
and demanded a ticket of the burly Hebrew who 
occupied the box office. Having obtained it 
without difficulty, I proceeded to make my way 
to the seat it represented, which, fortunately, was 
in the second row of orchestra stalls, a position 
which afforded me equal advantages for observ- 
ing both the stage and the audience, the latter 
being last, but by no means least, among the at- 
tractions. The play had not yet begun, so I 
employed the few minutes which preceded the 
rising of the curtain in scrutinizing my neigh- 
bors. On my right were seated a very large 
woman and a very small man — husband and wife, 
of course — and both belonging unmistakably to 
the House of Israel. The woman wore no gloves, 
but what she lacked in this respect was more 
than balanced by a quantity of rings with which 
her broad and rather doubtful-hiied fingers were 


TIT FOR TAT. 


77 


covered. A gold chain,, apparently several yards 
in length, was wound round and round her neck, 
and hung in graceful folds across her ample bo- 
som. Her hair was dragged back off of her face, 
then piled in heavy masses on top of her head, 
and,, surmounting this, was a hat of such very 
large dimensions that the entire structure, meas- 
uring from the end of her chin to the terminus 
of the' hat, was about two feet in height. The 
effect, when viewed from the side, was rather 
appalling, and, with a shudder, I turned my at- 
tention to my neighbors on the left — two very 
ordinary specimens of the German race, probably 
clerks in some second-rate shop. It is perhaps 
superfluous to state that both wore spectacles, 
although they were comparatively young men, 
and that both looked as if they had outgrown 
their clothes. 

A violent scraping of fiddles interrupted my 
observations, and I cast my eyes in the direction 
of the orchestra which was about to begin the 
overture. The conductor stepped briskly into 


78 


TIT FOE TAT. 


his seat and rapped on* his music-rack with the 
bow of his violin ; the musicians picked up their 
instruments, fell into position, and then the en- 
trancing strains of Tan7i1iduser were wafted over 
our heads and into our ears. All those who a 
moment before had been busy reading their pro- 
grammes, or else engaged in conversation, sud- 
denly dropped both, and a breathless silence en- 
sued, as far as the audience was concerned, at 
least. Finally the music came to an end with a 
harmonious crash — ^why it was TannJiduser, in- 
stead of Rossini’s William Tell^ I was at a loss to 
imagine — and then the curtain rose upon the 
most extraordinary scene I had ever witnessed. 

Not being able to comprehend precisely what 
it was intended to represent, I had recourse to 
my programme, which bore evidence to the fol- 
lowing: “Lake in Switzerland, bordered by a 
rocky coast, giving a view of William Toll’s hut, 
and in the distance a village lying in sunshine — 
snow-capped mountains, etc.” The rocky coast 
and William Toll’s hut were of about the same size, 


TIT FOR TAT. 


79 


but I shall not speak of such trifling incongruities. 
A boat now appeared on the lake, and in it a 
iisher-boy, whose attire was totally unlike that of 
any other fisher-boy in the known world; but 
this fact was entirely forgotten when he began to 
sing an ode to the surrounding country, in very 
bad German, which was responded to by a shep- 
herd and a hunter, who were to be seen standing 
on the pinnacles of two neighboring mountains. 
The singing concluded, an interesting conversa- 
tion was begun and finally interrupted by the 
appearance of William Tell himself, in a gor- 
geous green doublet, and armed with an enormous 
bow and arrows. He joined in the conversation 
with an air that would have been most imposing 
had not one of the calves of his legs unfortu- 
nately become turned round to the side, thereby 
giving rather a ludicrous aspect to his bearing, 
which not even Schiller’s most inspired sentences 
could relieve. 

After one or two scenes of slight importance, 
during which I wondered if Fraulein Altberg 


80 


TIT FOR TAT. 


would never make lier entree^ the dialogue was 
rudely and unexpectedly broken into by a vil- 
lager, wko rushed wildly upon the stage, ex- 
claiming that somebody or something had fallen 
off of a roof ; and at the same moment Bertha 
burst upon the scene, crying : 

“Rennet, rettet, helft. 

Wenn Hilfe moglicli, rettet, hier ist Gold.” 

She was greeted with a round of applause, 
and I bent eagerly forward to get a better view 
of her. Never in my life had I seen so beauti- 
ful a face. But what astonished me greatly 
was the fact that nothing about her betrayed 
her GeiTuan nationality. She was very dark, 
her hair being of that blue-black shade so rare- 
ly found except among Spaniards and Italians. 
Her eyes were large, liquid, tender, fascinating 
— ^the kind of eyes that are capable of express- 
ing anything, from gentlest pity to the most vio- 
lent scorn ; her figure was perfect — tall, graceful, 
and admirably proportioned. She might have 
been about seven or eight and twenty — ^not a day 


TIT FOR TAT. 


81 


more — ^Just tlie age when to me a woman is 
most attractive. I had barely time to note all 
these facts when she made her exit from the 
stage as quickly as she had appeared, and the 
entire next act passed without her coming again 
upon the scene. Somehow the play seemed to 
have lost all interest for me. A strange fas- 
cination. had led me to the theater, and the 
sight of Fraulein Altberg had only served to 
strengthen it. Was ever anything so absurd? 
Could it be possible that I was falling in love ? 
Nonsense ! I had too much good sense for that, 
I hoped. I was perfectly aware, also, that the 
goddesses we worship before the scenes are fre- 
quently the very opposite behind them, and 
that should I chance to make the acquaintance 
of this one in particular, I should in all proba- 
bility find her illiterate and vulgar. Horrible 
idea ! And yet, when she came in a moment 
later, attired in a dark-green hunting dress 
which fitted her exquisite form to perfection, 

I resolved to leave no stone unturned in order 
6 


82 


TIT FOE TAT. 


to procure an introduction to her. Man is but 
a weak mortal, after all. 

How charmingly she played ! It now occurred 
to me for the first time in my life that the Ger- 
man language was one of untold beauty, and I 
instantly decided to look for a master on the fol- 
lowing day and begin a course of reading, com- 
mencing with William Tell,” so that, should 
the piece have a long run, I might understand 
it better. 

The scene between Bertha and her lover, Ku- 
denz, was played in a manner that might readily 
have excited the envy of many of our American 
actresses; and later on, when Tell shoots the 
apple from his son’s head, universal admiration 
was openly expressed on all sides as, on seeing 
the boy unhurt, Bertha cries : 

“0, gut’ger Himmel 1 ” 

in a tone of voice worthy of Ristori herself. 

Achj wie schon ! ” remarked the colossal He- 
brew with the hair and bonnet, turning to her 
diminutive spouse. ‘‘ NwTit waJir, Franzerl f 


TIT FOR TAT. 


83 


tTajja,’’ was the response, uttered in accents 
that appeared to emanate from the boots of the 
individual who was speaking; ‘‘ja, ja^ natUr- 
lichP 

Another act passed before Fraulein Altberg 
appeared again, and when she did finally come 
on, it was toward the end of the performance. 
I was quite provoked. Really, I thought, they 
might have given her a better part. Such a 
woman as that, with her dazzling beauty and 
wonderful talent, was worth a fortune to any 
manager, and ought certainly to have a role 
that would tend to display her charms to their 
fullest advantage. Surely, they had no busi- 
ness to give such a stupid play as William 
Tell,” and expect any one to come and see it ! 
Why, it was only fit for a debutante^ and a very 
ordinary one at that. 

The curtain fell, and I rose mechanically from 
my seat and began to make my way out among 
the crowd. 

Wttnderschones Madchen ! said a voice be- 


84 


TIT FOR TAT. 


hind me ; and then another, speaking in English, 
remarked : 

Can’t say I agree with you. Pretty, of 
course, but not a bit of style.” 

Surely the sound of that voice was familiar 
to me. I turned hastily and saw a client of 
mine, a young man named Wright, whom I 
also met frequently in society, standing close 
to me. He perceived me instantly. 

“ Good-evening, Clason,” he said ; “ I did not 
know you were an hdbitu^ of the Germania.” 

Neither am I,” I answered ; this is my first 
experience.” 

' Indeed ! Why, I never miss a night when 
there is a change of programme. What do 
you think of the performance ? ” 

Excellent ; and as for Fraulein Altberg, she 
is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld.” 

“ Ah ! ” said my friend, laughing, “ so you are 
gone too, are you? Well, good-night; glad to 
have met you.” 

Good-night,” I replied, and buttoning up 


TIT FOR TAT. 


85 


my overcoat, for it was chilly, I walked olf in 
the direction of my lodgings. ^^Gone too,” I 
repeated to myself. “ Now, what on earth could 
he have meant by that ? ” 

V. 

“ Clason,” remarked Mr. Harding the next day, 
with slightly elevated eyebrows, which was the 
nearest approach to surprise that he was capable 
of, is anything the matter with you ? ” 

Not that I am aware of,” I replied. “ Why 
do you ask ? ” 

^^For the last hour, I regret to say,” said 
Harding, “ the expression of your face has been 
anything but an interesting study. There is 
an indication of some hidden emotion ; in short, 
you appear to have something on your mind. 
Now, all this is a great mistake — a very great 
mistake. Philosophy teaches us that calm in- 
difference to emotion of any kind is the thing 
of all others to be cultivated. No man who 
properly respects himself ever gives way to emo- 


86 


TIT FOR TAT. 


tion, whether of pleasure, or anger, or pain, or 
anything else. He may feel it, of course ; but 
to show it ! ” At this point, words seemed to 
fail Mr. Harding; but after a few moments of 
reflection, he continued : It is such bad form,” 
he said ; such very bad form. Look at me, for 
instance ; by constant practice in the right di- 
rection, I flatter myself that I have become per- 
fectly impenetrable in regard to this distressing 
peculiarity. Should an earthquake at this mo- 
ment shake us both out of our chairs, you would 
not see a muscle of my face alter. Complete 
command of oneself is a great source of conso- 
lation. I may even go so far as to state that 
it is an absolute necessity nowadays, when it 
is impossible to tell one moment what is going 
to happen the next. As for frowns and sighs,” 
said Mr. Harding, gazing pensively at the toes of 
his boots, “ they are simply disgusting. To hear 
a person sigh is quite enough to upset my equa- 
nimity for twenty-four hours. No true philoso- 
pher ever does such a thing. There are various 


TIT FOR TAT. 


theories, nevertheless, concerning the philosophy 
of the emotions. Some authors even venture 
to state that each separate characteristic can 
be easily traced to a preternatural condition of 
some portion of the human organization. ^ Now, 
for instance, it may be quite possible that your 
unhappy expression arises from some slight af- 
fection of the liver or stomach. I was reading 
a book the other evening, by some man who 
seems to know all about it, and he says that 
any violent emotion can almost always be 
tracked to an indigestible dinner, or something 
of that sort. On the title-page of his work he 
has changed the well-known lines, ^ Tin sovpir 
vient souvent d’^un souvenir^ to ^Un soupir vient 
souvent lun souper; ’ and I must say I have on 
several occasions been quite inclined to agree 
with him. It is very puzzling, however, to 
know just what theory to adopt in regard to 
this matter — there are so many different opin- 
ions ; but, at any rate, I know from personal 
experience that all emotion, from whatever cause 


88 


TIT FOE TAT. 


it may arise, can always be suppressed, and I 
tbink it is one’s bounden duty to do so — ^to 
suppress it, I mean — it is so very unpleasant 
to witness.” 

Mr. Harding paused, and there being appa- 
rently nothing in his speech which required a 
reply, I made none. 

“ Oh ! by-the-by,” he said presently, did you 
answer my question or not, Clason ? I’ve quite 
forgotten.” 

“ I told you there was nothing the matter with 
me, as far as I know,” I said. I was thinking 
about the piece I saw at the Germania last even- 
ing, that is all.” 

“ Ah ! ” said Harding. Then, after a moment’s 
silence: So you really went! Well, was she 
there ? ” 

She was ; and, Harding, she is the loveliest 
creature I ever set eyes on.” 

“ She must have changed considerably, then,” 
said Harding, languidly, for when I saw her, I 
thought her quite a disgusting object.” 


TIT FOR TAT. 


89 


“ Of whom are you speaking ? ” I inquired. 

“ Of the stout female I mentioned to you the 
other day — Frau von Seidensticher, I believe her 
name was, though probably she is called some- 
thing else by this time — it was ten years ago, 
you know. I shall never forget my feelings 
when she came on to the stage in that ridiculous 
costume. I — ” 

^^What do I care about your Frau von Sei- 
densticher ! ” I cried, exasperated. I never 
heard of her in my life; very likely she has 
been dead for years.” 

hope so, indeed,” said Harding. 

^^The person I saw last night,” I continued, 
would have aroused enthusiasm in a stick or 
a stone, or even you, Harding. Talk about 
emotion, indeed ! Why, had you been there 
you would have been wild — ^perfectly wild with 
delight. It is always those who set to work to 
control themselves who turn out worse than 
anybody else.” 

trust,” said Harding, ^Hhat I shall never 


90 


TIT FOE TAT. 


SO completely forget what is due to myself or 
my friends as to allow myself to be carried 
away by the mere sight of a putty-faced Ger- 
man woman kicking about the stage of a third- 
rate theater and speaking in vulgar gutturals. 
Heaven forbid that I should ever sink so low.” 

Very well,” I said, ^^we won’t quarrel about 
it, at all events. There is no law to compel you 
to either see or listen to Fraulein Altberg ; but 
please allow me to do as I please in the mat- 
ter.” 

Certainly, my dear fellow. By all means, go 
there if you enjoy it. But it is a very sad state 
of affairs. Just fancy, if you continue to go on 
in this way, you may finally come to imagine 
yourself in love — and that,” said Harding fer- 
vently, would be so horrible that the very idea 
of it almost takes away my breath. A man 
should avoid falling in love just as he would 
avoid the cholera, or the yellow fever, or any- 
thing else that is disagreeable. No philosopher 
ever falls in love.” 


TIT FOE TAT. 


91 


Oh ! hang philosophers ! ” I cried wrathfully ; 
‘Hhe very sound of the word makes me sick! 
Who is talking about falling in love? What 
put such an idea into your head ? ” 

“Clason,” said Harding sadly, “when a man 
sits for an hour with paper and ink before him 
under the impression that he is writing, while 
in reality he is staring at vacancy, and when 
this unfortunate state of mind is followed by 
exaggerated flattery in regard to some woman, 
it is pretty certain that he is about to commit 
a folly which he will repent all his life, unless 
some friendly advice succeeds in warning him 
in time. It is exceedingly painful for me to 
sit by and see you in this condition; in fact, 
I — Ah ! good-morning, Randolph ; you have 
come just at the right moment, for I am really 
quite upset. Something has happened to Cla- 
son.” 

“What is the matter, Tom?” asked Philip, 
who had just entered our ofiice, and who now 
stood looking at me from head to foot. “ Have 


92 


TIT FOR TAT. 


you broken your leg or made an unfortunate 
speculation ? ” 

Keally,” I said with some irritation, “ this 
is too absurd. Harding is either dreaming or 
crazy ; there is nothing whatever the matter 
with me. I ventured to mention where I had 
been last evening, and that was quite sufficient 
to make him go off into a long discussion with- 
out head or tail to it, as far as I can see. For 
the life of me I can’t tell what he is driving 
at. I don’t believe he knows himself.” 

Something,” said Harding, probably address- 
ing Philip, but fixing his eyes steadily upon the 
mantelpiece, ‘^something has happened to Cla- 
son. He has done nothing this morning but stare 
and sigh in a way that would be ridiculous — 
yes, positively ridiculous — ^were it not so very 
painful to witness. When I questioned him as 
to the cause of this strange behavior, he began 
to rave about Fraulein Pumpernikel, or what- 
ever her name is, in the most distressing man- 
ner. It has quite upset me, it has indeed — that 


TIT FOE TAT. 


93 


is,” said Harding, suddenly remembering his 
theories — as far as any one with a philosophi- 
cal tendency can permit himself to be upset. 
It is very sad.” 

Whether this last sentence applied to Hard- 
ing himself or to me, I was unable to determine ; 
but I made no inquiry in reference to it for fear of 
calling forth another tirade in the same style as the 
one I had already listened to, and which to me 
was anything but agreeable. Philip only laughed. 

I think you must be mistaken, Harding,” he 
said. “ I see nothing about Tom’s manner which 
can cause the slightest uneasiness in regard to 
him. By-the-by, I suppose you went to the 
Germania last night, Tom, judging from what 
Harding says. How was it ? Kespectable ? ” 

Quite so,” I replied. The audience was 
not composed of the cr^me de la crtme of I^ew 
York society, but it was very well-behaved, and 
the acting was really excellent, although there 
is room for improvement in the way of scenery 
and costumes.” 


94 


TIT FOR TAT. 


And Fraulein Altberg ? 

She is very handsome/^ I answered, glancing 
at Harding, wlio was sitting opposite in the most 
dejected of attitudes. don't think I ever saw 
a more beautiful face.” 

What style — ^blonde or brunette ? ” 

^‘Brunette decidedly.” 

Philip frowned. “ I can't abide dark-haired Ger- 
mans,” he said. “ No German has a right to be 
anything but blonde. She is young, I suppose ? ” 
About seven or eight and twenty.” 

m ! ” said Philip, reflectively. Well,” he 
added after a pause, if they give a downright 
good comedy, and I have no better engagement, 
perhaps I may drop in to see her some evening. 
Would you like to come too, Harding? Now 
that Tom has made his investigation and dis- 
covered that Fraulein Altberg is neither old, 
nor ugly, nor fat, I feel that I might be able 
to stand it for once. What do you say ? ” 

Harding moved about uneasily in his chair, 
and for some moments did not reply. 


TIT FOE TAT. 


95 


“ Really,’^ lie said at last, in a hesitating voice, 
“since you are both so determined upon going 
to that second-rate establishment, and since you 
are bent upon dragging me with you, I suppose 
there is nothing left for me but to accept. At 
the same time, I tell you that I heartily dis- 
approve of it nevertheless, and that I am sure 
I shall be quite unable to reconcile it to my 
conscience ; and now suppose we change the 
subject.” 


VI. 

“William Tell” continued to be played at 
the Germania for several nights, during which 
time I remained steadfastly away, partly because 
I did not care to see Fraulein Altberg in so un- 
satisfactory a role as Bertha^ and partly because 
I wished, if possible, to overcome my strange 
infatuation. Finally, however, when “ Die Anna 
Lisa ” was substituted for Schiller’s masterpiece, 
I could resist the temptation no longer, and that 


96 


TIT FOR TAT. 


evening found me once more installed witliin tlie 
theater. I had counted upon the society of both 
my friends, but Philip, I discovered, Avas out 
of town, somewhat to my surprise, and Harding 
declared he had an important engagement; so 
I was compelled to go alone. I met Mr. Wright, 
however, at the door. Just as I was about pur- 
chasing my ticket ; so we took seats together. 

The building was literally packed, and, I must 
confess, strongly suggestive of Chatham Street ; 
but when the curtain arose, and Fraulein Altberg 
appeared in all her startling beauty, no surround- 
ing objects had any power to affect me. I would 
have sat entranced among a mob of rag-pickers, 
I believe, and been unmindful of their existence, 
as long as my eyes were fastened upon her ex- 
quisite face. 

Not much of a play, is it ? ” remarked Mr. 
Wright, when the first act was over. 

I hardly know,” I answered ; am afraid I 
am not very clever at grasping the situations, my 
German having become rather rusty. But Frau- 


TIT FOE TAT. 97 

lein Altberg is perfectly cliarming, is slie not ? 
The character suits her admirably.” 

“I don’t care for her particularly,” said Mr. 
Wright with a vain attempt to suppress a yawn. 

There is an expression sometimes about her face 
that I can’t quite make out. I have seen her on 
several occasions look positively cruel and wicked. 
Her predecessor, Fraulein Schmidt, who was here 
last season, was infinitely her superior, in my 
opinion.” 

Cruel and wicked ! ” I exclaimed. Why, 
what can you be thinking of? Surely, if ever 
there was gentleness and goodness written on any 
face, it is on hers. She is, I am confident, inca- 
pable of any such feeling as you suggest.” 

“All right!” said my friend good-naturedly; 
“ but spare your enthusiasm, I beg of you, for, no 
matter what you say, I shall never agree with 
you.” 

“ Nor I with you,” I answered. 

Nevertheless, during the next act I examined 

Fraulein Altberg’s face more attentively, if possi- 
7 . 


98 


TIT FOE TAT. 


ble, than I had ever done before, in order to 
discover if, after all, Mr. Wright had any grounds 
for his strange suspicion ; but I could see nothing 
but her captivating beauty, which had so fasci- 
nated me from the beginning, and which now, I 
felt, was fast gaining a hold on me that would 
be difficult to shake off. I must get to know her 
somehow — but how ? There was nobody to intro- 
duce me, and I could not go behind the scenes 
and present myself. Perhaps, if I wrote her a 
letter soliciting the honor of her acquaintance, 
she might give her consent ; but then again, she 
might not, and, besides that, I had no possible 
way of ascertaining her address. The thought 
was maddening! What should I do? How 
could I manage it ? 

^^Clason,” said Mr. Wright abruptly, don’t 
lose your head over Fraulein Altberg ; I really 
don’t think she’s worth it.” ■ 

Pray, what do you know about it ? ” I asked 
somewhat savagely, for I was beginning to get 
tired of these continual remonstrances. 


TIT FOE TAT. 


09 


If any one is to be believed on tie subject, I 
am certainly that person,” said Mr. Wrigit, “ for 
I happen to know her exceedingly well.” 

. “You know her!” I exclaimed in such very 
loud tones that, had the orchestra at that moment 
not been playing selections from “ The Flying 
Dutchman^'' I should certainly have been over- 
heard by every one within six rows of me. “ Why, 
in Heaven’s name, didn’t you say so before \ ” 

“ Why should I have said so ? ” inquired Mr. 
Wright with much dignity; “you never asked 
me.” 

“ You are just the person I want,” I said joy- 
fully. “ Here I have been racking my brains in a 
fruitless endeavor to discover some method of 
obtaining an introduction, and all the while the 
very man to do it was sitting right under my 
nose. It was too bad of you, Wright ; you might 
have known I was dying, yes, actually dying to 
make her acquaintance. Introduce me like a 
good fellow, will you ? ” 

“ Certainly, since you desire it. But you need 


100 


TIT FOR TAT. 


not fly at me in that manner, I am sure. How 
could I tell you wanted to be introduced ? You 
never said so.” 

There are some things in this world,” I re- 
plied, “ which do not require to be spoken of in 
order to be understood. That was one of them. 
I can’t tell you what a weight you have taken off 
my mind, Wright. In another hour’s time I 
should have been desperate.” 

Mr. Wright regarded me with a smile of un- 
mistakable pity. Clason,” he said, you must 
not hold me responsible for anything that may 
occur afterward, if I promise to introduce you.” 

What do you mean ? ” 

Oh ! nothing particular. I do not trust Frau- 
lein Altberg, that is all, and I am quite confident 
that you will be of my opinion before long.” 

Never,” I replied decidedly. ‘^No one with 
such a face as that could be deceitful. The idea 
is simply absurd. I can’t imagine what ever 
made you think of such a thing, Wright.” 

Mr. Wright shrugged his shoulders. 


TIT FOE TAT. 


101 


Pure fancy, of course,” lie said. As far as 
I know personally, she is an angel ; but I cannot 
help mistrusting her all the same. To be sure, I 
may be mistaken.” 

At this moment, the curtain rose upon the 
third act, and our conversation for the time being 
was interrupted. Finally, when the play was 
over, and we turned to go, I felt like a man sud- 
denly awakened from sleep. Mr. Wright must 
have observed my thoughts to have been else- 
where, for he caught hold of my arm and shook 
it. 

Clason, are you dreaming ? ” he asked. “You 
have not spoken a word for the last hour.” 

“You really must excuse me, Wright,” I an- 
swered. “ To tell you the truth, I never felt less 
like talking in my life. I have been rather hard 
worked lately, and my mind has been a good 
deal occupied with business matters. We law- 
yers, you know, have to keep at it pretty stead- 
ily.” And then, by way of demonstrating to 
Mr. Wright how very intent I was upon business 


102 


TIT FOR TAT. 


matters, I continued: By-tlie-by, when will 
you present me to Fraulein Alt berg ? ” 

Mr. Wright looked at me suspiciously, and 
laughed. 

Let me see,” he said. This is Monday, is it 
not? Suppose we say next Sunday evening, 
then ; she is always at home on Sunday evening.” 

Next Sunday ! ” I exclaimed, perfectly aghast. 

Why, it is a whole week off.” 

Can’t help that,” rejilied my friend, in a 
thoroughly unconcerned tone. “She is at the 
theater every other evening, and you can’t pay 
visits in the daytime, you know.” 

“Very well, then,” I said, “let us say Sun- 
day, since it must be that or nothing. Where 
and when shall I find you ? ” 

“I am always at the club between eight and 
nine. I like to drop in for a few moments and 
see how the games are getting on. But,” con- 
tinued Mr. Wright, suddenly recollecting him- 
self, “ there are no games on Sunday, are there ? 
That is really the only objection I have to liv- 


TIT FOE TAT. 


103 


ing in America — the Sundays are so infernally 
stupid. Never mind; I shall wait for you at 
the club, all the same. Now, good-night, and 
pray reflect upon what I have told you.” 

What rubbish ! ” I said to myself, almost an- 
grily, as I walked on alone. “ What on earth 
should I reflect about ? By Jove ! these fel- 
lows don’t know it, perhaps, but the more they 
try to dissuade me, the more determined I am 
to follow my own inclinations in the matter. 
Why should I not fall in love if I choose to? 
Everybody does it. It is a disease, I suppose, 
just like any other ; but it has one thing in its 
favor — it never proves fatal. People may die 
of the scarlet fever or diphtheria, but who ever 
heard of any one dying for love? The old 
notion of broken hearts has, I am happy to 
say, quite gone out of fashion.” 

As I made this wise reflection, which I con- 
sidered quite worthy of Harding himself, I 
reached my own house, and opening the door 
with my latch-key, went up-stairs to my room. 


104 


TIT FOR TAT. 


A letter was lying on the table. I picked it 
np and opened it mechanically; it was from 
Philip. 

“Dear Tom/’ he wrote, “I have been unex- 
pectedly called out of town to arrange some 
business matters connected with a piece of prop- 
erty of mine in the northern part of the State. 
I shall not be absent more than ten days at the 
utmost, and perhaps not quite so long, should 
all go well. 

“ I have not forgotten our little engagement to 
go to the Germania, and shall be prepared to ac- 
company you thither immediately upon my re- 
turn. Since your enthusiastic description of 
Fraulein Altberg, I have become quite curious 
to see her. 

“Yours, in haste, 

“Philip Eaxdolph.” 

“ And when he does see her,” I said, laying 
the letter down on the table again, and begin- 


TIT FOE TAT. 


105 


ning to make my preparations for tke night, 
when lie does see her, he will say just as I 
did — that she is the loveliest creature in the 
world.” 


PAET THIED. 


I 

D UEING tlie ensuing week I was preoccu- 
pied and tkouglitful to an excessive de- 
gree, thereby exposing myself continually to 
Mr. Harding’s ^‘theories,” as lie called them. 
I did not allow bis remarks to trouble me in 
the least, and this supreme indiiference was 
probably due to the distant but certain pros- 
pect of meeting Fraulein Altberg. Harding, 
however, gradually began to leave off moraliz- 
ing, and began ^ a series of direct and ap- 
propriate inquiries in reference to the charming 
actress. Whether this was in consequence of 
my impassibility, or whether it arose from some 
hidden motive of his own, I am unable to say ; 
but it had the effect of amusing me extremely, 
for to see Harding interest himself in anything 

except his profession or his philosophy was some- 

106 


TIT FOE TAT. 


107 


thing so unusual, that it was some time before 
I could reconcile myself to the fact. It was 
easy to see that slight persuasion would be re- 
quired to induce him to accompany me to the 
theater, and I therefore purposely refrained from 
mentioning the subject, thinking by this means 
to make his conquest more certain. For a long 
time, two or three days at least, there was a 
fierce struggle between his pride and his incli- 
nations, and then the latter finally conquered, as 
is generally the case. 

Clason,” he remarked one morning, “ did you 
not say that Fraulein Altberg was a brunette ? ” 

A very decided one,” I answered, 
am glad to hear that,” said Harding. ^^Bru- 
nettes have a certain fire and enthusiasm about 
them which blondes entirely lack. I must say 
I prefer a woman who has some ^go’ in her; 
she is so much better adapted to comprehend 
one’s ideas.” 

Can it be possible,” I said, “ that I hear 
you mention such vulgar qualities as ^ fire ’ and 


108 


TIT FOK TAT. 


‘ enthusiasm ? ’ Why, Harding, you utterly over- 
whelm me. What has become of your philoso- 
phy ? No philosopher can endure such charac- 
teristics.’’ 

Harding colored in evident embarrassment, 
and then, as though to cover it, drew himself 
up stiffly. 

I detest sarcasm,” he said, and taking a book 
from the table, became immediately so immersed 
in its contents, that I deemed it prudent not to 
disturb him by further remarks. 

Business occupied us until late in the after- 
noon, and when at last our work was over 
for the day, Harding and I left the office to- 
gether, as was generally our custom. 

I intentionally avoided making any allusion to 
Fraulein Altberg, but Harding was determined 
not to leave me in peace. 

^AVhat do they play to-night at the Ger- 
mania?” he inquired languidly. “Some blood 
and thunder drama, I suppose. I say, Clason,” 
turning toward me and speaking almost in a 


TIT FOE TAT. 


109 


whisper, do they come out in boots and broad - 
hats with plumes, and act in that unhand-me- 
villain sort of manner ? because, if they do, 

I don’t think I could sit it out even for 
once.” 

Who wants you to sit it out ? ” I asked un- 
graciously. “You have no intention of going, 
have you ? ” 

“ That Bowery style of performance never was 
to my taste,” continued Harding, paying no 
heed to my remark. “ I have always considered 
it so inexpressibly ill-bred. Even when I was a 
child, I never could bear to see such representa- 
tions ; Shakespeare’s plays were the only ones I 
could tolerate, and by the time I was twelve 
years old, I was able to recite almost the whole 
of Hamlet by heart. I remember hearing people 
say I had a wonderful memoiy, and time, I re- 
joice to say, has not impaired it in the least. 
Now, in regard to the drama — ^why can’t we have 
something after the manner of the ancient 
Greeks ? I am quite sure it would be success- 


110 


TIT FOE TAT. 


ful. People are just beginning to bave some 
perception of classical literature, and any tend- 
ency in that direction should be warmly en- 
couraged. Greek plays would, I think, in time 
become quite the rage.” 

Very likely,” I replied. As far as I my- 
self am concerned, however, I must confess that 
I prefer any other kind. The modern French 
school, for instance.” 

Harding shuddered. 

“ Horrible ! ” he said. So morbidly sensa- 
tional? Emotion is the natural characteristic 
of the French nation, just as it is predominant 
in all people inhabiting southern climates ; and 
it is precisely this quality which is ruining 
them. Great thinkers nowadays are not, as a 
general thing, born in those countries ; they come 
from Germany, from England, or from any other 
place where emotional qualities are comparative- 
ly unknown. It is very painful to one of my 
nature to see this school so popular here, for it 
is the thing of all others to be avoided. Its 


TIT FOR TAT. 


Ill 


effect upon tlie nation is degenerating and de- 
grading in tlie fullest extent.” 

Perhaps it is,” I said. Anything that is 
entertaining and amusing is morally bad, is it 
not ? ” 

Harding reflected for a moment. 

No,” he said at last, I do not think that. 
Greek plays, to me, are very amusing — so are 
Shakespeare’s — but I would not think of ques- 
tioning their morality. Perhaps, though, our 
ideas may differ as to what really constitutes 
amusement and morality. Now, what is your 
definition of amusement ? ” 

^^Not Greek plays, certainly,” I said. ^^And 
now, Harding, suppose we stop here, for I have a 
faint suspicion that you are trying to entrap me 
into an argument, and you know from experience 
that I cannot argue for ten minutes without fly- 
ing into a violent rage. So why do you tempt 
me ? ” 

^^Yes,” said Harding, have frequently ob- 
served, much to my regret, that you allow the 


112 


TIT TOR TAT. 


merest trifle to interfere witli your self-control. 
This being the case, we ought certainly to keep 
aloof from discussions, for it is very jiainful for 
me to witness any such exhibition.” 

We walked on for a little while in silence; 
then Harding spoke again. 

^^Did you say Fraulein Altberg’s figure was 
good, Clason ? ” 

“ Perfect.” 

“ Nothing fat about her ? ” 

“ Good gracious, no ! ” 

Another silence — Harding was apparently 
turning over something in his mind, and evi- 
dently unable to come to any satisfactory de- 
termination. We had almost reached the point 
where we usually separated to go our respective 
ways, when he suddenly turned toward me, and 
in the glare of a street-lamp which we were at 
that moment passing, I could see that the color in 
his face had deepened considerably. 

Clason,” he said, “ I have no engagement 
for this evening ; so, if you care to have me join 


TIT FOK TAT. 


113 


you, I think I will go with you to the theater. 
It is not much in my line, you know, but I think 
if I see this — this person who seems to have 
turned your head so completely, I would under- 
stand better how to give you advice on the sub- 
ject, and — ” 

“Never mind the advice, Harding,” I said, 
laughing; “you have given me quite enough al- 
ready — ^but of course I would be delighted to 
have you accompany me, if you are quite sure it 
will not interfere with anything of a more pleas- 
ing nature you may have on hand.” 

“N-o, I think not. At any rate, drop in at 
the St. James’s for me about eight o’clock. 
Good-by.” 

He hurried off, as though anxious to escape 
further conversation upon the subject, and I was 
really quite at a loss to comprehend him. What 
did he mean ? A few days ago, when Philip had 
declared his intention of going to the theater, 
Harding had come to the conclusion that he 

would join us ; and yet, when I had invited him 
8 


114 


TIT FOE TAT. 


to accompany me on tlie following evening, lie 
had. pleaded an engagement. Since then, I had 
not repeated my request, thinking that perhaps, 
after all, he did not really care to go ; but I soon 
discovered that this was in no wise the case. His 
constant remarks in reference to Fraulein Alt- 
berg and the theater soon proved to me that the 
subject was uppermost in his mind, and that, 
notwithstanding his philosophical theories, he 
was just as anxious to satisfy his curiosity in re- 
gard to the young lady as Philip was. This was 
rather surprising, for Harding was not given to 
show any special inclination for anything, and 
while his sudden fancy amused me excessively, I 
was secretly rejoiced that at last something had 
occurred to rouse him from the absurd lethargy 
into which he had fallen. 

When we entered the theater together that 
evening, I found, much to my astonishment, that 
Harding had relapsed once more into his former 
languid manner, and that not the slightest trace 
of his momentary enthusiasm remained. I took 


TIT FOE TAT. 


115 


it for granted tliat lie was ashamed of his weak- 
ness, and was seeking to make np for it by 
being doubly calm and impenetrable. 

The play was still Die Anna lAsa ’’’* — one 
which I liked particularly, as Fraulein Altberg 
was on the stage continually, from the beginning 
to the end. As the curtain rose and she ap- 
peared before the audience, I glanced apprehen- 
sively toward my companion, in order to observe 
the effect her marvelous beauty produced upon 
him. To my utter disgust, his face expressed 
nothing whatever — ^neither pleasure, nor disap- 
pointment, nor surprise. 

Harding,” I said, in an excited whisper, 
^^why, in Heaven’s name, don’t you say some- 
thing ? ” 

What do you want me to say ? ” he inquired 
calmly. 

I want you to tell me what you think of her. 
Is she not superb ? ” 

^^Good-looking enough,” said Harding. ^^At 
any rate, she is fifty times better than that fat 


116 


TIT FOE TAT. 


party wlio was here ten years ago. I cannot en- 
dure the sight of a fat woman.” 

“ If that is all you can say,” I exclaimed wrath- 
fully, “ yon had much better have stayed at 
home. One might as well go to the theater with 
a log of wood as with you. It may be very 
philosophical,” I continued, waxing more enraged 
every moment, “ but it’s damned disagreeable.” 

Mr. Harding raised his eyebrows slightly. 

^^Clason,” he said, “such vehemence is ex- 
tremely unbecoming. If you are going to make 
a scene in the theater before everybody, let me 
know at once, and I shall leave.” 

“Do,” I said. “You would probably enjoy 
yourself much better at home, reading Darwin’s 
Origin of the Human Species, and I should be 
infinitely better off without you, since you can do 
nothing but make unpleasant remarks.” 

“ On second thoughts,” said Harding, “ I think 
I shall stay and see it out. That woman who has 
just come on the stage pleases me rather. By 
the way, who is she ? ” — ^taking up his programme 


TIT FOE TAT. 


117 


and reading tlie names of tlie cliaracters : “ Let 
me see. Anna Lisa, Fraulein Altberg ; Uenriette, 

Frau Kopp — ^beastly name, Kopp ; Maria, Frau- 
lein Tobmann. I suppose she must be Maria, is 
she not, Clason ? She looks like Maria.” 

I was too indignant to answer. 

^^Much better style than Fraulein Altberg,” 
continued Harding. ^^Her complexion is infi- 
nitely superior. Fraulein Altberg’s has a yellow- 
ish tinge about it that is rather suggestive of / 
jaundice. I am sure she must have had jaundice, 
Clason. If I ever get to know her, I shall ask 
her.” 

Be quiet,” I said in a voice choked with rage. 

Don’t you see everybody looking at you ? You 
may possibly not care to hear what is said on the 
stage, but, no doubt, some others do ; so be kind 
enough to reserve your remarks for a more fitting 
occasion.” 

Harding put out one hand with an implor- 
ing gesture. ^^Do not begin to rant and rave 
like a madman, Clason, simply because my ideas 


118 


TIT FOE TAT. 


do not happen to coincide with yours. Every 
man is entitled to his own opinions — ^keep youi^s, 
and I will keep mine — only don’t, I beg of you, 
make a scene. I have such a horror of scenes.” 

I did not reply, and for the remainder of the 
evening hardly a word was exchanged between 
us. I knew it was unreasonable in me to take 
offense merely because Harding did not admire 
Fraulein Altberg, and yet the very fact of my 
being unreasonable only seemed to increase my 
ill-humor. Harding perceived this, and wisely 
let me alone. 

As we turned to leave the theater, at the close 
of the performance, I continued to maintain dead 
silence. I could not speak of the play, and to 
speak of anything else was an impossibility. 
Harding, however, was as cool and collected as 
ever. As I looked at him, I had a horrible sus- 
picion that he was inwardly amused at my ill- 
temper. 

Good-night, Clason,” he said, when we reached 
the street. ^Ht was really much better than I 


TIT FOE TAT. 


119 


expected, and tliat Fraulein Tolimann wlio plays 
Maria is a beauty. If you intend to go again to- 
morrow night, let me know, will you ? — ^for I 
should quite like to see her again.” 

II. 

The next day was Saturday. Harding and I 
remained at daggers’-points during the entire day, 
never addressing each other unless absolute ne- 
cessity required it, and then only in the briefest 
and most concise terms. The anger was un- 
doubtedly all on my side, for Harding never 
allowed anything to ruffle the calm serenity of 
his mind in the slightest degree, and this only 
served to augment my rage. Why did he not 
speak ? What did he mean by sitting there and 
never mentioning Fraulein Altberg, or the theater, 
or anything else ? I did not reflect that, had he 
done so, I should, in all probability, either have 
paid no attention to his remarks, or else have 
answered them in the most ungracious fashion. 


120 


TIT FOE TAT. 


Nevertheless, it was veiy uncomfortable, and my 
temper was by no means improved when the 
afternoon mail brought me a second letter from 
Philip, in which he announced that it would be 
absolutely impossible for him to leave at present, 
and that we must not look for him for another 
week at the earliest. I tossed the letter down 
wdth such an angry gesture that Harding looked 
up in mute wonder. Now,” I thought, ‘‘ he is 
certainly going to say something,” and for once in 
my life I was not mistaken. 

^^My dear friend,” he remarked, in the softest 
possible tones, “may I inquire the meaning of 
those extraordinary gymnastics ? ” 

“ It is smply disgusting,” I cried, rising from 
my chair, and pacing the floor with rapid strides. 
“ Eead that ! ” and I threw Philip’s letter into his 
lap. 

Harding picked it up, opened it leisurely, and 
began to read. When he had finished, he laid it 
down beside him on the table, and calmly folded 
his hands. 


TIT FOR TAT. 


121 


Well ? ” lie said. 

“ What do you mean by ^ well ’ ? ” I exclaimed. 

It is not well at all ; it is very bad, vile, atro- 
cious. Don’t you know that I am waiting to 
take Philip to the Germania with me, and that if 
he had arrived this evening, as I expected, I had 
intended to ask Wright to introduce him as well 
as me to Fraulein Altberg to-morrow? No, of 
course you don’t ; you never know anything.” 

“Since you feel in that way about it,” said 
Harding, “ let me tell you that you shall not go 
alone, Clason. I shall have the extreme happi- 
ness (that is the correct term, is it not ?) of ac- 
companying you myself.” 

“Not if I know it,” I said with charming 
candor. “ I had quite enough of that last night, 
thank you.” 

“ I shall be sorry to disappoint you, Clason,” 
said Harding, apparently absorbed in looking at 
the tips of his fingers, “ but, if you seriously ob- 
ject to my society, I am afraid you will have to 
stay at home, for I am certainly going. I met 


122 


TIT FOE TAT. 


Wriglit this morning, and he invited me to join 
yon.” 

What ! ” I cried, wheeling suddenly round, 
unable to believe my own ears. He asked you 
too ? And did you accept ? ” 

^^Most certainly I did. Why should I not? 
Probably Fraulein Tohmann may be there.” 

Fraulein Fiddlesticks ! ” I said crossly. 
‘^Look here, Harding, you know perfectly well 
that you no more admire that woman than you 
admire a — a blackamoor. If you are bent upon 
going with us to-morrow evening, it is to see 
Fraulein Altberg, and no one else — and it’s my 
firm belief that you are in love with her your- 
self, only your devilish pride prevents you from 
saying so.” 

Hush ! ” said Harding, holding up both 
hands in horror. Don’t, pray, mention such a 
thing. In love ! Why, my dear fellow, the 
very word makes me shudder. Nobody nowa- 
days falls in love except chambermaids and 
butlers. No gentleman or lady ever does 


TIT FOE TAT. 


123 


sucli a thing. It is quite fearful to contem- 
plate.” 

“ Pooh ! ” I said contemptuously, that sort of 
talk won’t go down with me, Harding, so you 
may as well stop it at once. Of course, you can 
go with us to-morrow if you wish. What do I 
care ? You have my full permission to go every 
evening as long as you live, if you choose ; only, 
I warn you beforehand that if you begin to say 
anything disrespectful of Fraulein Altberg, I 
will never speak to you again — ^never ! ” 

Dear me ! ” said Harding. This is all very 
unnecessary. When will you learn to be less 
violent, Clason ? Anybody seeing you this 
afternoon would take you to be an escaped luna- 
tic. I assure you they would. Do be calm, I 
.beg of you. It is distressing to see a person 
have so little control over himself. Of course I 
shall make no disparaging remarks about Frau- 
lein Altberg. I hope I am too much of a gentle- 
man for that.” 

Certainly you are,” I said, my good humor 


124 


TIT FOR TAT. 


suddenly returning. “You are a brick, Harding, 
wken.you talk common sense. Don’t mind my 
ill-temper.” 

“It isn’t that,” said Harding. “As far as I 
am personally concerned, your temper makes 
very little difference. It is the exhibition of it 
that troubles me — it is so very painful to see 
any one lose his self-command. I can’t tell you 
how it upsets me. I knew a man once who had 
such a frightful temper that he used to turn 
green in the face, and fairly dance with rage ; 
and, Clason,” he continued, lowering his voice, 
“my contempt for that man was so great that if 
murder was not such an exceedingly undignified 
action, I really think I should have killed him. 
He was a most sickening person.” And Mr. 
Harding, having delivered this inhuman speech, 
arranged his papers upon the table, and began to 
write deliberately. 

The following evening, after dinner, we made 
our way to the club in search of Mr. Wright. 


TIT FOR TAT. 


125 


He was engaged, tlie waiter said, with one or 
two gentlemen np-stairs, but would be down in a 
few moments — and presently he did appear, saun- 
tering into the room with his hat under his arm, 
smoking a cigarette. 

Have you come into a fortune, Clason ? ” was 
his greeting to me, as he extended two fingers to 
Harding. never saw you look so radian fc.” 

“ Then you have never seen me on Sunday,” 
I replied, for I am always radiant on Sunday. 
It is the only day in the week that I am free to 
amuse myself as I please. I hate to work, but, 
inasmuch as I have the tastes of a millionaire, 
and the income of a mechanic, it is unavoidable. 
It is very sad, as Harding would say.” 

If that is really the case, it is indeed,” said 
Mr. Wright, laughing. ‘^But let us be off; it’s 
getting late.” 

trust,” said Harding, as we walked down 
the street together, that Fraulein Altberg 
speaks English, otherwise I shall be compelled 
to remain silent during my visit; and so will 


126 


TIT FOE TAT. 


Clason, I am sure, for, with all his boasted learn- 
ing, I do not believe he understands a single 
word of German. Now, do you, Clason? ” 

“You need not be uneasy,” said Mr. Wright. 
“ Fraulein Altberg speaks English as well as you 
do. She was educated in England, I believe. 
She has the most bewitching little accent imagi- 
nable.” 

In a few moments we reached the hotel where 
the young lady resided, and were shown to a 
suite of rooms on the ground- floor. Mr. Wright, 
who seemed to be quite au fait in all matters 
pertaining to the establishment, advanced to- 
ward a door and opened it. A flood of gas- 
light nearly blinded us as we entered, but we 
could distinguish the charming actress at once, 
seated at one end of the room, talking with some 
very ordinary-looking man. She rose immedi- 
ately and advanced to meet us, and, as she did 
so, I could feel my heart thumping so violently 
beneath my dress-coat that I almost feared some 
one would hear it. Mr. Wright made the neces- 


TIT FOE TAT. 


127 


sary introductions, and then, taking Harding by 
the arm, led him to a corner where a very stout 
old lady was sitting. The old lady bowed 
graciously, and, pointing to a chair, invited him 
with a smile to sit down, which he did, and in 
this way I found myself standing alone with 
Fraulein Altberg. What was it that made a 
sudden faintness come over me? How very 
stupid ! It must be the flowers, for the whole 
room was fllled with them. My hands, too, be- 
came icy cold, and I felt the blood rush to my 
face. I tried to say something, but the words 
would not come; my very tongue seemed to 
cleave to the roof of my mouth, and, for an in- 
stant, eveiy object in the room danced before my 
eyes ; then I became suddenly aware that Frau- 
lein Altberg was speaking to me. 

Shall we not sit down ? ” she said softly, with 
just the slightest foreign accent in her tones. “ It 
is so much more comfortable than standing up.” 

I recovered myself at once, and followed her 
to a causeuse which stood in the middle of the 


128 


TIT FOE TAT. 


apartment directly beneatli tlie chandelier. She 
was even more beautiful than I had imagined. 
She was perfectly dressed in some soft white mate- 
rial, cut a little open in the throat, and fastened 
at the waist by a bouquet of scarlet roses. As I 
looked into her glorious dark eyes, whose bril- 
liancy was more heightened than usual by a 
faint tinge of color in her cheeks, I felt that from 
that moment I was a lost man. 

Your face is very familiar to me, Mr. Clason,” 
she said. Have we not met somewhere before ? ” 
think not,” I replied. “You may, perhaps, 
have seen me at the theater — that is, if you ever 
notice an individual face among the crowd — ^for 
I am one of your ardent admirers, Fraulein 
Altberg. This is, however, I am sure, the first 
time we have spoken together.” 

“ Ah ! yes,” she said ; “ it must have been at the 
theater, of course. Are you fond of the theater ? ” 
“ I am very fond of the Germania, and of see- 
ing you act,” I answered. “ I cannot say I am 
much of a theater-goer otherwise.” She laughed. 


TIT FOE TAT. 


129 


Why do you pay me compliments ? ” she 
asked. I am so tired of compliments. Now, if 
you want to please me, talk of anything else ex- 
cept the theater. I will tell you a secret,” she 
added, bending toward me and speaking in a low 
voice. I hate the theater — yes, I positively 
hate it.” 

You cannot be speaking seriously,” I said, 
or else I am a very poor observer. Each time 
that I have seen you act, you seemed to throw 
your whole soul into your part.” 

It is not that,” she said, speaking quickly, 
and glancing toward the man with whom she 
had been talking when we came in. I love my 
art, and my soul is in it ; but I detest that miser- 
able German theater. I am veiy ambitious, Mr. 
Clason, and I should like to act at one of the 
first theaters in New York. What good does it 
do me to exhibit my talent before people who 
are incapable of appreciating it ? ” 

Surely you are mistaken on that point,” I 
said reassuringly. ^^The audiences that I have 

9 


130 


TIT FOE TAT. 


seen do appreciate you. Whatever is German, is 
always understood by Germans.” Then, feeling 
that this remark was not quite as brilliant as I 
could wish it to be, I added hastily, They are 
not fashionable people, certainly, but they are 
undoubtedly intelligent.” 

should not, perhaps, have said, they do not 
appreciate me,” said Fraulein Altberg; ^^but I 
have an utter contempt for them. I want to act 
at a fashionable theater, before an audience com- 
posed of ladies and gentlemen, instead of music- 
teachers and shop-keepers.” 

^^Well,” I said, “and why do you not? You 
could easily get an engagement at any theater, I 
should think, and your English is so perfect that 
I doubt if any one would ever take you for a 
foreigner.” 

“ It is impossible,” she said. “ I have signed a 
contract with Herr Schmidt, to remain with him 
for four years, and he will never let me break 
it.” 


Of course he won’t, unless he is an idiot,” I 


TIT FOR TAT. 


131 


tliouglit. Then aloud : And pray, who is HeiT 
Schmidt ? — ^your manager ? ” 

“ Yes, that is he, standing yonder talking to 
Mr. Wright. A charming fellow, Mr. Wright, is 
he not ? ” 

Oh ! very,” I said amiably, although the 
particular charm with which Mr. Wright was en- 
dowed had never struck me forcibly. ^^And 
now tell me the name of the lady with whom 
my friend Mr. Harding is sj)eaking.” 

“ That is my mother.” 

I was rather surprised at this answer ; a friend 
or companion she certainly might be — but her 
mother ! I cast a scrutinizing glance in the di- 
rection of this lady, whose person was of such 
very generous proportions that many details 
must have escaped me in my superficial examina- 
tion. I saw, however, that she was enormously 
stout, very vulgar, and very much overdressed. 
She was laughing violently at that moment, and 
evidently relating something exceedingly funny 
to poor Harding, who was sitting by her side in 


132 


TIT TOE TAT. 


a woe-begone attitude, a sickly smile overspread- 
ing bis countenance, looking like a caricature of 
some East Indian deity. 

I inwardly enjoyed bis discomfiture — ^very un- 
feeling of me, no doubt — but I was so bappy my- 
self that my keen sense of tbe ridiculous was 
more vivid than usual, and tbe sight of my un- 
fortunate friend imprisoned in a corner witb that 
terrible woman, while I basked in tbe society of 
tbe fascinating artiste, was almost more than I 
could gaze upon witb becoming gravity. 

What are you thinking of, Mr. Clason ? ” 
asked Fraulein Altberg suddenly. 

“ ^^’otbing of any consequence,” I stammered, 
rather at a loss what to answer. “I was only 
thinking bow very unlike you and your mother 
are ; I should never have imagined you to be her 
daughter.” 

And why ? ” 

Ob ! because — ^because your figures are so 
very difiPerent, and your coloring and all that, 
don’t you know?” I said brilliantly, becoming 


TIT FOE TAT. 


133 


more confused as I saw her eyes fixed upon me 
with rather an amused expression. 

Yes,” she answered presently, we do not re- 
semble each other in the least. But will you not 
allow me to present you to her ? I believe the 
ceremony of introduction was overlooked when 
you came in.” 

“ Oh ! certainly,” I murmured, inwardly cursing 
the inspiration which had led me to mention her 
mother at all. Charmed, I am sure.” 

She rose from her seat, and I followed her to 
the corner from which Harding’s eyes glanced 
up at me imploringly. Madame Altberg saw us 
approaching, and drew herself into position, so to 
speak, in anticipation of the introduction. 

“ Mamma,” said Fraulein Altberg, let me 
present Mr. Clason to you.” 

The old lady bowed affably, and extended a 
fat hand, which I pretended, however, not to see. 
Harding instantly rose, and motioned me to take 
his seat, at the same time addressing some trifling 
remark to Fraulein Altberg. There was no 


134 


TIT FOR TAT. 


help for it ; so, casting a furious glance at my 
friend, I turned to Madame Mere, who was eye- 
ing me benignantly, and waiting patiently for me 
to take Harding’s vacant chair. This, however, 
I was determined not to do; so I remained 
standing by her side, twisting the ends of my 
mustache, and feeling anything but comforta- 
ble. 

I did not quite catch your name,” said 
Madame Altberg, with the strongest of German 
^accents. “Did I understand my daughter to say 
Grayson or Mason ? ” 

“ Neither, madame ; my name is Clason.” 

“ Ah, so ! ” — the last syllable drawn out as 
only a German can draw it. “ I once knew a 
person of that name, an American, living in Lon- 
don — John Clason, he was, and he kept a little 
diy-goods shop in the Strand. A relation of 
yours, perhaps ? ” 

“None at all,” I said in an indignant tone^ 
and drawing myself up stiffly. 

Madame Altberg was utterly unconscious. 


TIT FOR TAT. 


135 


nevertlieless, of liaving made any faux pas, and 
continued good-naturedly : 

“ You Lave seen my daughter act, Mr. Cla- 
son, I suppose. Now, wLat do you think of 
her ? ” 

“ Your daughter is everything that is charm- 
ing,” I answered, looking about me in a vain 
attempt to discover ^some loop-hole of escape 
from this terrible person. Suddenly, my face 
lighted uj). Mr. Wright had finished his conver- 
sation with Herr Schmidt, and was saying good- 
evening to Fraulein Altberg, as also was Harding. 
In another moment they approached my corner, 
and I took immediate advantage of this to bow 
hurriedly to Madame Altberg, and proceed to 
make my adieux to her daughter. 

Good-night, Mr. Clason,” said the latter pleas- 
antly. trust that, now you have found your 
way here, we shall have the pleasure of seeing 
you often. We are always at home on Sun- 
days.” 

^^And at no other time,” I ventured, encour- 


136 


TIT FOR TAT. 


aged by tbe glance she suddenly gave me from 
beneath her long black lashes. 

I do not know. Why do you ask ? ” 

‘^Because,” I answered, waxing bolder, “I 
should so much prefer seeing you alone than 
among all these people. Tell me, when may I 
come ? ” I added hurriedly, seeing my two friends 
advancing toward me. 

Let me see,” hesitating an instant, and then 
half laughing. “Well, then, if you really wish it, 
you may come on Tuesday afternoon, at four 
o’clock.” 

“ Thanks,” I said simply. “ Good-evening, 
Fraulein Altberg,” and I bowed and took my 
departure. 

We did not say much to each other that even- 
ing, for, as we left the hotel, each of us went in 
a different direction ; so, merely thanking Mr. 
Wright for the pleasure he had afforded us, 
Harding and I separated and went in search of 
our respective homes. 


TIT FOE TAT. 


137 


III. 

It was easy to see, from tlie expression of 
Harding’s face as he entered onr office the next 
morning, that something had gone wrong with 
him. An nnnsnally sad look overspread his 
features, and even his walk bespoke a dejected 
frame of mind. I, myself, was in radiant spirits ; 
everything had that charming couleur de rose as- 
pect which pervades surrounding objects when 
we are particularly happy, and I felt that, after 
all, life had charms whose existence could never 
be appreciated, or even known, until the heart 
had been touched by the tender passion. That 
mine had been so touched, I did not doubt for an 
instant, and I ceased to regret that such was the 
case wffien I contemplated the delights which 
apparently were in store for me. Yes, I was 
certainly a very lucky fellow, and so happy, that 
even Harding’s lugubrious countenance failed 
to impress me. 

^^Good-morning, Harding,” I remarked jovially. 


138 


TIT FOE TAT. 


‘^Have you recovered from last night’s dissipa- 
tion ? ” 

Harding put out his hands beseechingly. 
“Don’t,” he said ; “I’m ill, very ill.” 

“ HI ! Why, what is the matter ? ” 

“You know,” said he; “you were there; 
you saw her” — and he passed his hand over his 
eyes as though to shut out the recollection. “ If 
I had known,” he continued, “ of the existence of 
that frightful person, there is nothing, absolutely 
nothing, that would have induced me to go there. 
I shall never forgive Wright to my dying day. 
He might have told me.” 

“Told you what?” I inquired. “What are 
you driving at ? ” 

Harding did not reply for some moments. 
He took up a paper-knife from the table, and be- 
gan to examine it leisurely. 

“ I shall never go there again,” he said pres- 
ently. “ Fraulein Altberg is all very well in her 
way, I suppose — ^but the mother ! Clason, what 
do you think of the mother ? ” 


TIT FOR TAT. 


139 


She is not the most attractive person I have 
ever seen, I admit,” I answered. Just fancy, 
Harding ” — suddenly recalling my outraged feel- 
ings of the previous evening — she actually 
asked me if I was related to Somebody-or-other 
Clason who kept a shop in London. She did, 
upon my word.” 

That,” said Harding, decidedly, “ is nothing in 
comparison with what she said to me. She 
wanted to know if I was in ^^the profession,” 
and when I replied that I hoped not, she said 
that I certainly looked as if I was. Just ima- 
gine such a thing ! It is too dreadful.” 

Never mind,” I said cheerfully. What else 
could you expect of such a vulgar person? The 
only thing that astonishes me is how she came to 
be Praulein Altberg’s mother. She is certainly 
refined and lady-like, and as lovely as her mother 
is unlovely.” 

If you had studied more, Clason,” said 
Harding, ^Hhat would astonish you but little. 
The laws of physiology do not command that a 


140 


TIT TOR TAT. 


cliild should look like its mother, or like its 
father. I once saw a very perfectly formed 
couple who had ten humpbacked children, and, 
upon investigation, it was discovered that, sev- 
eral generations back, one of the father’s an- 
cestors had been adorned with a similar em- 
bellishment — two, in all probability. Fraulein 
Altberg resembles some distant great-great-un- 
cle or grandfather — taking it for granted, of 
course, that she has had a grandfather. All 
this, my dear Clason, is very well knoAvn to sci- 
entific men ; there is some special term, in fact, 
used to designate this very thing. I have forgot- 
ten exactly what it is, for the moment, but I 
will think over it and let you know. It is a most 
interesting study.” 

There was a pause for a few moments, and 
then Harding continued : 

“ I shall never forget, during the whole course 
of my life,” he said, “that horrible half hour 
spent in the society of that vulgar creature. You 
know, to begin with, I cannot abide a fat woman 


TIT FOR TAT. 


141 


— and such a fat woman ! Did you notice her 
costume, Clason ? Cotton-backed satin ! Just 
think of it ! Can there be anything more atro- 
cious than cotton-backed satin?” and Hard- 
ing sank back in his chair as though overcome 
by the reminiscence. 

“Don’t be absurd,” I said. “Did you ex- 
pect to see her clad in Worth’s latest novelty? 
You have seen German women before — ^you 
know how they dress themselves. Fraulein 
Altberg is the only exception to the rule I 
have ever met with.” 

“ You cannot understand, Clason,” said Hard- 
ing, fixing his eyes gloomily upon the opposite 
wall, “ how a person of my esthetic sensibility is 
affected by such inharmonious details. I might 
possibly have forgiven the cotton-back satin, and 
the wonderful way in which it was made ; but 
when it came to her hands incased in blue kid 
gloves and several rings — ringSj’’ repeated Mr. 
Harding with emphasis, “worn on the outside 
of them — I felt that my peace of mind was de- 


142 


TIT FOR TAT. 


stroyed for a week to come. By tlie way, Cla- 
son,” with just the faintest touch of curiosity in 
liis voice, ^^wkat were you and Fraulein Alt- 
berg talking about ? ” 

^^Keally, I do not remember,” I said, wisely 
intending to keep my own counsel. The usual 
things, I suppose — the weatber and the theaters.” 

“ How very commonplace,” said Harding. 
^‘How, I never think of mentioning such topics. 
They belong, properly speaking, to the vulgar 
crowd, who are capable of comprehending noth- 
ing of a more substantial nature. I only had a 
few moments’ conversation with Fraulein Altberg 
last evening, but those few moments were of 
an excessively interesting and attractive char- 
acter.” 

What did you talk about, may I ask ? ” I in- 
quired, trying to appear as unconcerned as possi- 
ble. 

A most entertaining subject,” said Harding. 
“ I ventured to ask Fraulein Altberg her opin- 
ion in regard to the theoiy of evolution, and 


TIT FOR TAT. 


143 


wliere slie tliouglit the missing link between 
monkey and man was likely to be found,” 

And what did she say ? ” I asked curiously. 
She gave me a most peculiar reply,” said 
Harding. “ She said, she thought it would not be 
necessary to search very far for the missing link. 
What do you think she meant, Clason ? I have 
been wondering ever since, and cannot discover, 
to save my life. I have read all the latest scien- 
tific works upon the subject, and I do not re- 
member their mentioning any prospect of the 
missing link making himself known to human- 
ity.” 

“ How do I know what she meant ? ” I said, 
with difficulty repressing a smile as I contem- 
plated Harding’s extreme simple-mindedness. 
^Wery likely she was thinldng of her mother — I 
should not be surprised.” 

Oh ! then it was intended for a joke ! ” said 
Harding. Dear me ! I am quite disappointed. 
I thought her reply was purely scientific. Very 
bad taste, don’t you think so, Clason ? ” 


144 


TIT FOR TAT. 


I do not know, I am sure,” I answered. “ I 
am only surmising as to ker meaning. She may 
have intended her reply to be scientific, and she 
may not. What earthly difference does it make ? ” 

“ Dear me ! ” said Harding again. “ How very 
strange ! ” and a client at that moment entering 
the office, put an end for the time being to our 
conversation, much to my delight, for I was too 
full of iny own hopes and plans to pay much 
attention to the vague speculations of my com- 
panion. 

Tuesday afternoon seemed a long way off. 
How I wished she had said Monday ! And 
Philip, why did he not come back, that I might 
present him to my charming artiste? He, I was 
sure, would understand and appreciate her many 
virtues and attractions better than any one else. 
How veiy extraordinary, too, that Fraulein Alt- 
berg’s nature should be in such evident sym- 
pathy with mine ; and yet, when I came to think 
of it, it was quite natural, after all. Had not 
some unknown and powerful attraction led me to 


TIT FOE TAT. 


145 


the theater? Had I not known almost certainly, 
before I had even seen her, that she was young, 
beautiful, and fascinating ? And what had been 
my feelings when I did see her ? What, indeed, 
but a sudden intoxication, which swept over me 
from head to foot, leaving me dreamy, preoc- 
cupied, thoughtful, and uncertain of myself. 
Taking all this into consideration, was it sur- 
prising that she should fancy my society and 
encourage it ? Could all the intensity of emotion 
I had undergone have possibly been wasted 
upon a nature not in harmony with my own ? 
Certainly not. Surely, she and I were made for 
each other, if ever two people were ; and if she 
loved me truly, I would marry her to-morrow, 
in spite of conventionalities and all the formal 
barriers of society. What did I care for society ? 
Had it ever given me anything beyond the mere 
pastime of an hour ? Why should I stop to think 
of that or anything ? If she loved me, I would 
marry her — ^yes, I would marry her, had she 

fifty mothers, and should she act at the Germania 
10 


146 


TIT roil TAT. 


as long as slie lived. Philip would laugli at tlie 
idea, perhaps, and Harding would be horribly 
shocked. Well, let them. I was a free man and 
could do as I chose, and on this point I was 
decided to have my own way, as far as lay in my 
power. Life, after all, was so short, and our 
hours of happiness so few and far between — so 
few and far between ! 


IV. 

Tuesday afternoon finally arrived, and at four 
o’clock, punctually, I entered Fraulein Altberg’s 
hotel — not without some agitation, however, for 
the thought of seeing her alone, of having her 
all to myself, even for one brief hour, was suffi- 
cient to overwhelm me with joy. 

I was shown immediately to her private par- 
lor, and told that she would appear in a few 
moments. I sat down upon one end of the 
causeuse, and, in order to distract my thoughts 
and gain more composure, began to look about 


TIT FOR TAT. 


147 


me, examining every detail of the room with the 
interest and curiosity always displayed by a man 
who finds himself alone in the apartment of the 
woman he loves. There were flowers every- 
where — on the tables, on the grand piano, on the 
mantel-piece. There was a photograph of Frau- 
lein Altberg herself, in a gilded frame, standing 
close by me, and another of Herr Schmidt ; sev- 
eral albums, too, filled with portraits of intensely 
German-looking people — and that was all ! Of 
my fair artiste, personally, there was no indica- 
tion. Ho half-open book, no sheet of music 
tossed carelessly upon the piano, — ^nothing but 
the photograph on the table which gave any sign 
of her former presence. I took it up and looked 
at it. It was an excellent likeness, and as I 
gazed at it, I tried to imagine the sweet, tender 
eyes were looking into mine, and could almost 
fancy they did — so often does our conception as- 
sume a tangible form in proportion as our in- 
clination directs it. So absorbed was I in 
contemplating the exquisite form and features 


148 


TIT FOE TAT. 


represented upon the morsel of pasteboard in my 
hand, that I did not hear the door open, nor 
had I any idea of Fraulein Altberg’s actual pres- 
ence in the room until she stood close beside me. 
Then I started and colored furiously, like a 
school-boy caught in some trifling misdemeanor. 

“Good-morning, Mr. Clason,” she said, tak- 
ing no notice of my embarrassment, or of the 
portrait I held still in my hand. “ Pardon me 
for keeping you waiting, but I was detained un- 
avoidably by Mr. Schmidt, who was with me 
when you came, talking over some theater busi- 
ness. I cannot tell you how glad I was to escape 
from it, and to look forward to a pleasant chat 
with you.” And with a smile she threw herself 
down rather wearily on one end of the causeuse^ 
and motioned me to take my seat on the other. 
“ I hardly knew whether to expect you or not, 
Mr. Clason,” she continued ; “ business men, you 
know, have so seldom any time they can call 
their own.” 

“ No business could have interfered with my 


TIT FOR TAT. 


149 


keeping my engagement with yon,” I answered. 
“ It was so very kind of you to let me come — so 
mucli more than I had any riglit to kope for ; 
you cannot know kow I appreciate it.” 

It was no kindness, indeed, Mr. Clason. I 
am afraid it was a purely selfisk motive wkick 
led me to give you tke permission you asked for. 
Tke few moments’ conversation we kad togetker 
tke otker evening were sufficient to skow me 
tkat you were a most congenial companion, 
and tkat we kad many sympatkies in common. 
Kindred spirits,” ske added witk a little laugk, 
are not so plentiful tkat we can afford to tkrow 
tkem away. Don’t you tkink so ?” 

“ Most certainly not,” I answered ; “ and you 
are quite rigkt wken you say we are kindred 
spirits. I felt tkat we were tke moment I 
looked at you. Tke first time I saw you, you 
were playing William Tell^ and I skall never 
forget tke impression you made upon me. It 
was like a fieeting glimpse of Paradise. I say 
fleeting,” I continued, smiling, because yourap- 


150 


TIT FOE TAT. 


pearances upon the stage were rather spasmodic, 
were they not? You no sooner came on than 
you went off again.” 

Don’t speak of it,” she answered. cannot 
endure that play. It was a shame for Herr 
Schmidt to give me such a role ; it was nothing — 
absolutely nothing. How could, you have sat it 
out? But here we are again speaking of the 
theater — a topic that must be instantly put under 
taboo, if you wish me to retain my good humor.” 

“Very well, then,” I said, “let us change the 
subject. Suppose you tell me how you came to 
speak English so well. It is not usual to hear a 
German talking our difficult tongue with so little 
foreign accent.” 

“I lived many years in England,” she an- 
swered, “ and have been nearly a year now in 
New York. I have not seen Germany for ever 
so long ; not since I was eighteen. Shall I tell 
you how I came to go to England ? — it is rather 
an interesting story. When I was quite a little 
girl, I used to be very fond of studying the 


TIT FOE TAT. 


151 


works of our great poets— Goethe, Schiller, Heine, 
and Uhland. I was only a peasant, Mr. Clason, 
— yes,” she continued, noticing my involuntaiy 
look of surprise, I was only a simple German 
peasant; but peasants in my country love the 
poets and great writers of the nation, and are 
familiar with their books. It is not as it is in 
England, where very often you find people 
among the poorer classes who have never heard 
of Shakespeare. No; our poets are our house- 
hold gods, and we worship them as such. One 
summer evening, when I was between seventeen 
and eighteen, I recited Schiller’s beautiful Lied 
von der Glocke to a few of the neighbors. All 
the windows were open on account of the heat, 
and a gentleman passing by stopped to listen. 
When I had finished, he came into my little 
room, and, after asking me a few questions about 
myself, inquired whether I had ever thought of 
going on the stage. My face flushed at the idea — 
it had been the dream of my life — but, alas ! how 
could it ever be possible without either friends or 


152 


TIT FOE TAT. 


money ? I told this to the kind Englishman — I 
saw at once that he was English — in trembling 
tones, and I could hardly believe my senses 
when, after a little more questioning, he said 
that, if I were willing, he would take me with him 
far away to England and educate me for the 
stage. I was almost wild with happiness; it 
was some time before I could realize the good 
fortune which had so suddenly come to me ; but 
my kind benefactor was as good as his word, and 
we went immediately to ^England, where I was 
given the best instruction the country could 
afford, I studied for nine years, for I was defi- 
cient in everything ; I really do not think I knew 
anything, having had no advantages beyond the 
common-school education every child receives in 
Germany; and then my kind friend died, and 
soon after I came across Herr Schmidt, who 
engaged me to come to America. Now, Mr. 
Clason,” she continued, you know all about me, 
and will be able to say whether I have improved 
my oppoii^unities or not.” 


TIT FOR TAT. 


153 


“Indeed you have,” I said, looking at her so 
earnestly that her eyes sank beneath my gaze, 
and a faint color stole into her cheeks. “ I really 
feel very kindly disposed toward the old Eng- 
lish gentleman myself, for, had he not carried 
you oif to England, we should probably never 
have met, and this charming tUe-a-tUe would have 
been non est. Tell me frankly, would my not 
coming to-day have made any difference to you 
— just the least bit in the world ? Do not say it 
would unless it is really so,” I added hastily. “ I 
assure you I shall not mind.” 

As I had spoken, I had bent gradually toward 
her, until her face almost touched mine, and I 
could see how long were the lashes that fringed 
her dusky eyes — those long, almond-shaped 
oriental eyes, which had so bewitched me from 
the first. Presently she raised their heavy 
white lids, and now, they were looking straight 
into mine with a soft, dreamy expression that 
almost took away my breath as I encountered 
it. 


154 


TIT FOR TAT. 


Why do you ask me ? ” she said gently. 
“ You Mow that it would — do you not 

There is but one thing that I know,” I said, 
speaking in a low, passionate whisper, “ and that 
is that, since I saw you first, not two weeks ago, 
you have grown to be a part of my life. I 
do not believe in fate,” I continued hurriedly ; 

that is, I never have believed in it before ; but 
surely it was something of that kind which led 
me to you. I cannot tell you what the feeling 
was, more than that it was an irresistible im- 
pulse — an impulse which I had not the power to 
fight against. I tried not to yield to it, but it 
was too strong for me, and since that first night 
at the Germania I had but one thought — to 
know you, to sit by your side, to hear your voice 
speaking to me alone. Tell me, was I wrong — 
was I mad — ever to imagine you could think of 
me in a different way than you do of Mr. 
Wright and the others? Tell me — tell me!” and, 
without waiting for her answer, I seized one of 
her little hands and began to cover it with kisses. 


TIT FOR TAT. 


155 


“ Mr. Clason,” said Fraulein Altberg, making 
no attempt to witkdi^aw ker hand, but speaking 
in a low, troubled voice, I kardly know wkat 
to say to you — you kave taken me so by sur- 
prise. Probably, at some future time, it is not 
unlikely tkat I skould care for you — you are not 
like tke otker men tkat I kave known, and tke 
first moment I saw you I felt we migkt become 
very dear friends. Do not, kowever, ask me for 
more tkan tkat at present.” 

“As you please,” I said quite calmly, tkink- 
ing tkat perkaps I kad been too kasty. “ I will 
wait patiently until you tell me I may speak 
again ; only do not send me away from you, do 
not say you can never care for me — for if you do 
you will drive me to despair.” 

Fraulein Altberg recovered kerself a little 
and laugked. “ Tkere will be no occasion for you 
to be brought to tkat lamentable pass,” ske said ; 
“ at least, I trust not ; only you must not kurry 
me — you must give me time to tkink — a great 
deal of time.” 


156 


TIT FOE TAT. 


Do not make it any longer than is absolutely 
necessary,” I said pleadingly. Think of the 
lonely life 1 lead — hard-worked all day, and no 
loving words to repay me, no cheerful face to 
greet me on my return home. You do not know 
what it is, Fraulein Altberg — you, who are al- 
ways surrounded by friends, and living in the ex- 
citement of a public life — ^you cannot know what 
it is for a man, situated as I am, to long for a 
companion who might be always beside him, a 
wife to cheer him in his darker hours as well as 
in happier ones.” 

I was speaking earnestly now, without a trace 
of the wild emotion which had suddenly swept 
over me a moment before. Fraulein Altberg 
bent quickly forward, with an expression upon 
her face I had never yet seen there. What was 
It — ^happiness or triumph ? Before I could deter- 
mine its precise meaning, it had vanished, and 
her features resumed their natural appearance ; 
but it had taken me somewhat aback, neverthe- 
less. 


TIT FOE TAT. 


157 


Your wife ! Mr. Clason,” she said slowly ; 
“ do you really want me to be your wife ? ” 

Have I not told you so ? ” I cried. Have I 
not said you are the one woman the world con- 
tains for me? Yes, I do want you for my wife; 
for my very own — always — always,” and once 
more I tried to take her hand, but she drew 
back. 

‘‘And your friends,” she said a little anxiously; 
“what would they say to your marrying an 
actress from the German theater — a woman 
without position, without family — a woman who 
is not even at the head of her profession ? No, 
you cannot mean it.” 

“ I do mean it,” I said. “ What do I care 
what any one thinks ? It is you I want — only 
you; all else is of but little consequence.” 

“ Give me time to think,” she said ; “ I cannot 
answer you now ; I cannot, indeed, Mr. Clason. 
And now I think we must say good-by, for it is 
getting late, and I have my preparations to make 
for the theater. You may come again in two or 


158 


TIT FOR TAT. 


tliree days, if you like, and then, perhaps — mind, 
I only say perhaps — I may tell you something 
you will like to hear. A.uf wiedersehen^ lieher 
Freund^^"^ and in another moment she had ex- 
tended her hand to me, and then was gone be- 
fore I had time to utter a word. 

V. 

“Harding,” I said with startling abruptness, 
“ how do I look ? ” 

We were sitting together in our office, the 
morning following my visit to Fraulein Altberg. 
I had been gradually swelling with a sense of 
my own importance, and at the same time pa- 
tiently waiting for my companion to ask me 
some questions as to the pressing engagement 
which had called me away the day before. But 
Harding had either forgotten, or else purposely 
avoided any mention of the subject ; so at last, 
tired of waiting, I resolved to lead carefully up 
to the topic by putting the above query. When 


TIT FOR TAT. 


159 


I did put it, my friend slowly raised his eyes 
from the book before him, and allowed them, 
instead, to rest for a moment upon my face. 

“ What do you mean ? ” he inquired in his 
usual listless manner. “ Pray explain your- 
self.” 

You know what I mean,” I said.* How do 
you think I look ? Do you see any change in 
my appearance ? ” 

Change in your appearance ! ” repeated 
Harding. “Ho, I don’t perceive anything spe- 
cial. Ah ! yes,” suddenly, “ now that I examine 
your face attentively, I can see that your nose is 
slightly redder than usual. I hope you have 
not been drinking, Clason ; it is a very distress- 
ing thing to see a man under the influence of 
liquor.” 

“ Pshaw ! ” I exclaimed impatiently. “ Can’t 
you understand, Harding ? What I want you to 
tell me is, do you remark any alteration in the 
expression of my features ? Do I look any hap- 
pier than I did yesterday, for instance ? ” 


160 


TIT FOE TAT. 


‘^Clason,” said my friend solemnly, ^^you need 
not go any further. I know now what you 
mean; you have been to that dreadful place 
again. How could you do it ? I gave you credit 
for more firmness of character — I did, indeed,” 
and his eyes rested with a melancholy look upon 
the carpet. After one visit,” he continued, 
“ after seeing that mother, how was it the vail 
did not fall from your eyes ? ” 

“ There is no vail about it,” I said. I ad- 
mire Fraulein Altberg excessively, and I don’t 
care a fig what kind of a mother she has. Am I 
not a lucky fellow, Harding? I had a little 
tUe-a-tUe with her yesterday all to myself, and 
perhaps, very soon, I may have another. The 
more I see of her, the better I like her ” — and 
my face fiushed at the mere recollection. 

Clason,” said Harding, what is it you in- 
tend to do ? You may as well tell me the worst 
at once.” 

“ Nothing very dreadful,” I answered ; “ I am 
not going to eat her up, or run away with her. 


TIT FOR TAT. 


161 


I am simply going to marry lier — that is to say, 
if she will have me.” 

“You cannot surely mean what you say, 
Clason,” said Harding in a perfectly calm 
voice, and apparently quite unaffected by my 
unforeseen proclamation. “After years of daily 
intercourse with me, it is quite impossible that 
you should think of such a thing. Marriage is 
only excusable when it is brought about by the 
desire to gain either money or position ; marriage 
for any other reason is pure folly. If you bind 
yourself to this — this person, instead of gaining 
either of the two things I have just mentioned, 
you will lose both. Besides that, why do you 
wish to marry at all? The idea that all men 
should marry, simply because it is one of Na- 
ture’s laws, is quite a mistaken theory. You 
might as well say that all men should play the 
fiddle. Of course, I acknowledge there are 
some who can only find life bearable when they 
are tied forever to a woman — who think single- 
blessedness a thing to be abhorred — but I 
11 


162 


TIT FOR TAT. 


should be moi’e than sorry, Clason, to imagine 
you to be one of the number. A true philoso- 
pher does not want a wife — he wants convic- 
tions ; and in this latter respect, my dear friend, 
I fear you are sadly deficient.” 

Have you done ? ” I asked sarcastical- 
ly, when finally Harding stopped speaking. 

Have you anything more to say ? for if you 
have, go on.” Then, suddenly changing my 
tone to one of extreme irritability: might 

have known just what to expect from you. In- 
stead of wishing a fellow joy, as any other friend 
might do under the circumstances, you sit there 
and preach your infernal philosophy, if it is 
philosophy — for, hang me ! I sometimes think 
you are a greater ignoramus than any of us.” 

“ Clason,” said Harding, evidently much 
shocked, ^^you forget yourself! I always ima- 
gined that when a person asked another person’s 
opinion, he expected to receive a truthful re- 
ply. Why should I wish you joy when I see 
you are about to make a fool of yourself over 


TIT FOE TAT. 


163 


Fraiilein nobody-knows-wlio ? I admit slie has 
some attractions,” he added half apologetically, 
seeing my rage gradually increasing ; “ the 
first night I saw her, I thought her quite pre- 
sentable, in fact ; but when it came to the mo- 
ther, Clason, it was really too much. We must 
draw the line somewhere, you know, and I felt 
that no gentleman who properly respects him- 
self could ever associate himself with a person 
who had such a very unprepossessing relative. 
The recollection of that visit will remain deeply 
rooted in my mind for years to come.” 

^Wery well,” I said in a hoarse voice, ‘‘we will 
drop the subject, if you please ; but remember, 
Harding, nothing you can say will ever make 
me alter my determination. If Fraulein Altberg 
will accept me, I shall certainly marry her.” 

“ Let us hope, then,” said Harding, “ that she 
will not accept you ” — and, for the time being 
the subject was dropped. 

The next afternoon found me sitting in 


164 


TIT FOR TAT. 


Fraulein Altberg’s parlor, anxiously waiting for 
her to make her appearance. I had not long to 
wait, however, on this occasion, for in a very few 
moments the door opened, and she came in 
smiling, holding both hands outstretched to- 
ward me. I rose quickly and, advancing to meet 
her, stood for a moment before her, gazing silent- 
ly into her blushing face. She was in a dilferent 
mood to-day, a laughing, coquettish mood, which 
caused my heart to leap wildly for an instant as 
I held her hands clasped tightly in mine, and 
then, as she suddenly withdrew them' and threw 
herself down upon the causeuse with a nonchci- 
lant^ pettish gesture, my spirits sank almost to 
despondency. 

^^Tell me,” I said hurriedly, ‘^tell me whether 
you have thought over what I said to you, and 
whether you will give me the answer I am wait- 
ing to hear? I cannot talk of common place 
things ; I cannot even say ^ How do you do,’ until 
you answer me this first. Do not keep me in 
suspense — tell me quickly.” 


TIT FOR TAT. 


165 


Fraulein Altberg tossed back her shapely head 
and laughed. Then she stopped short and cast 
down her eyes. 

^A^ou want me to marry you, do you not?” 
she asked. Very well, I will marry you. Does 
that satisfy you ? ” and she laughed again. 

“ Satisfy me ! ” I cried, a great weight seeming 
to lift itself from my entire being. “Marie — I 
may call you Marie now, may I not ? — ^you have 
made me more than satisfied, and I trust you 
may never have cause to regret the words you 
have just spoken to me. I will do everything in 
my power to make you happy; I love you so 
much, dear ” — and once more I caught her hands 
in mine and covered them with kisses. 

She smiled a little at my impetuosity, and then 
shook her head. 

“ Are you quite sure you will not repent hav- 
ing asked an actress to be your wife ? ” she said. 
“ What will your family say ? ” 

“I have no family,” I said. “I occupy the 
enviable position of being totally minus relations 


166 


TIT FOR TAT. 


of any kind — ^neither fatker, mother, sister, nor 
brother. But you ” — I continued, remembering 
suddenly that my fair fiancee was not similarly 
afflicted, I shall have to speak to your mother, 
I suppose, shall I not ? ” 

‘^Not at present, at all events. Let us keep 
our secret to ourselves for a little while — for a 
few days. It is all so strange and new to me, 
Mr. Clason.” 

Why do you call me Mr. Clason ? ” 

What else should I call you ? I do not even 
know your first name. Let me see if I can guess 
it,” leaning toward me, and laying her hand 
caressingly on my arm. “ Is it George ? ” 

Nothing one-quarter as beautiful as George,” 
I said, laughing. ^^I am simply Thomas Clason.” 

Well, then, simply Thomas Clason, I like you 
very much, and I will do anything you ask me 
to — but I think it is not necessary to speak to 
my mother just now about our engagement. By 
the way, what will you give me as a pledge of 
our engagement — a ring? No, I do not care for 


TIT FOE TAT. 


167 


rings. Give me the little medallion you have 
hanging from your watch-chain,” and she leaned 
over and touched it with the tips of her fingers. 

I unclasped it instantly. It was a tiny gold 
medallion set with pearls, and contained a lock of 
hair — my mother’s. I removed the hair, placed 
it in my pocket, and handed the medallion to 
Fraulein Altberg. 

“ I wish I had something ten times as valuable 
to offer you,” I whispered. But if you care for 
such things I will get you another, much prettier 
than this.” 

How kind you are ! ” she said. This one 
is very pretty. I shall wear it to-morrow eve- 
ning in the new play, Der Veilchenfresser, 
You will come, of course, will you not ?” 

Do you think I could miss an opportunity 
of seeing you ? ” I cried, “ even though you 
cannot see me^ and are thinking only of the lines 
you have to speak. I cannot bear you out of 
my sight. It is happiness to me even to be near 
you.” 


168 


TIT FOR TAT. 


Slie did not answer for a moment ; then she 
looked up with a soft light in her eyes, and a 
smile dimpling the corners of her perfect mouth. 

To-morrow night,” she said, shall play 
only to you ; no matter whether I can find you 
in the crowd or not, I shall feel that you are 
there ; and when the play is over, you will come 
here to me — will you not ? — and we can talk it 
over ; only do not bring Mr. Wright with you, 
nor your friend, Mr. Harding. I want you 
quite to myself — ^just as I have you now.” 

“Thank you for asking me,” I said. “You 
know how glad I shall be to come. And why 
should you think of my bringing Wright or 
Harding with me ? I cannot spare even a little 
bit of you to any one, and I am quite sure 
I shall make the most disagreeable lover that 
ever was born, for I am so jealous, that to see 
you smiling upon any other man would make me 
almost feel like killing you. So beware ! ” and 
as I stopped speaking, and looked down smiling 
into her face, I saw, to my surprise, that a far 


TIT FOE TAT. 


169 


off, dreamy expression had come suddenly into 
her shadowy eyes, and that she appeared to be 
thinking of something else. 

VI 

Deae Tom : — At last I am done with my dis- 
agreeable business matters, and can contemplate 
returning to New York. I shall probably leave 
here in the morning train day after to-morrow, 
which will bring me to Gotham somewhere 
about dinner-time; so, if you have nothing special 
to do, drop in at the club toward six o’clock, 
and we will dine together. Afterward, if you 
like, we can stroll round to the Germania.” 

So wrote Philip; the letter reaching me the 
evening of the day I had seen Fraulein Altberg. 
I looked at the date — ^Wednesday. This was 
Thursday, so to-morrow he would arrive, and we 
could go together to see the Veilchenfresser, 
It was with a feeling of intense satisfaction that 


170 


TIT FOE TAT. 


I contemplated this expedition ; for Philip was 
not like Harding, nor yet like Mr. Wright, and I 
was confident that although he might laugh at 
me, and try to dissuade me from marrying 
Fraulein Altberg, he was really too good a friend 
of mine to say anything that would seriously 
hurt my feelings, and in time might possibly be 
brought to consider my choice a good one. He 
was more a man of the world than the others — 
had traveled more, and was not at all inclined to 
settle down into a groove, and pursue a regular 
routine of living and thinking, as was Harding. 
He was a society man, of course, and as such not 
exempt from a certain amount of bigotry ; but 
deep-rooted, immovable prejudices there were 
none in Philip’s nature, and narrow-mindedness 
in any shape was as odious to him as it was to 
me. He was rather inclined to skepticism, it is 
true, in regard to love ; but then, how could he 
put any faith in women after being so basely 
deceived in Dresden by one in whom he had trust- 
ed and given a helping-hand? And — ^well, was 


TIT FOE TAT. 


171 


I not disposed myself to think slightingly of the 
God of Love until my own heart had been 
pierced by one of his shafts ? 

The next evening at six o’clock, therefore, I 
presented myself at the club, my heart beating 
high with pleasurable excitement. Philip was 
there before me, and shook my hand heartily 
as I advanced toward him. 

“Well Tom, old boy,” he said, “how wags 
the world with you ? I suppose you were be- 
ginning to fear I had left New York forever, 
and intended taking up my residence in the 
northern wilds. I really thought I should never 
get away.” 

“ Now that you are here,” I said cordially, 
“I’m awfully glad to see you, Philip. It was 
rather mean of you to desert us in that uncere- 
monious manner, but it probably could not 
have been avoided. Why is it, I wonder, that 
business matters of importance always make 
themselves known and thrust themselves for- 
ward at the most inopportune times ? ” 


172 


TIT TOR TAT. 


^^Was the time particularly inopportune?” 
asked Philip. It was a devilish long time to be 
away ; but I imagine, as it had to be done, that 
one week was as good as another.” 

Of course it was inopportune,” I said in 
some surprise. Have you forgotten, Philip, 
that I have been waiting for you to see Frau- 
lein Altberg ? ” 

We were seated at dinner by this time in a 
tiny room all to ourselves, and the waiter had 
just carried away our oyster plates and disap- 
peared in search of the soup. 

^^Ah! yes,” said Philip carelessly. “We are 
to see her this evening, are we not, Tom ? I take 
it for granted, you observe, that you are as much 
infatuated as ever.” 

“Philip,” I said abruptly, and with a certain 
nervousness that I could not overcome when 
speaking of her, “would you think it very 
strange if I were to tell you I was more than 
infatuated with Frilulein Altberg, and that I 
really thought seriously of marrying her ? ” 


TIT FOR TAT. 


173 


What ! ” cried PMlip, in sucli a loud tone 
that the glasses fairly rattled. “ What did you 
say, Tom ? ” 

“ You see,” I went on, becoming more and 
more uncomfortable under his gaze, and trying 
to turn it off with a laugh, in which attempt, 
however, I failed ignominiously. You see that 
I have been improving my opportunities during 
your absence. Wright knows her, and he intro- 
duced us — Harding and me — and I can’t tell 
you precisely how it all came about, Philip, but 
the fact remains the same, that I am going to 
marry her, unless, indeed, she runs off with 
somebody else in the meanwhile.” 

^‘Well, Thomas,” said Philip decidedly, “I 
must say that you certainly have not neglect- 
ed your opportunities ; but I shall reserve my 
opinion in regard to your conduct until I 
see the young lady. Of course, if you think 
your happiness depends upon this marriage 
taking place, I would be the last man in the 
world to dissuade you from the idea.” And he 


174 


TIT TOE TAT. 


stretclied his hand across the table and clasped 
mine. 

Thank yon, old fellow,” I said, more touched 
than I cared to show, by this involuntary act of 
kindness and good-will ; I knew you would un- 
derstand, and not bore me with long disserta- 
tions and arguments, as Harding does ; and, O 
Philip, when you see her, you will tell me that 
I am indeed a lucky fellow.” 

We finished dinner rather hurriedly, so as to 
arrive at the beginning of the performance, and 
when we reached the theater we had some difil- 
culty in obtaining seats, so gi^eat was the crowd 
assembled to witness the new plr ^ ; but we 
finally succeeded in procuring two places in a 
sufiiciently good part of the house to enable us 
to have a fine view of the stage. The curtain 
was just rising, and Philip glanced round at the 
audience with something like a smile on his face. 

How this reminds me of the old days ! ” he 
said. “ I should never imagine myself to be in 
America — this is Germany personified. Where 


TIT FOE TAT. 


175 


do tliey all come from, I wonder — one never 
sees these people anywhere else. Look at that 
woman in front of us, Tom. What do you think 
she is ? She is not a poor person, evidently, for 
she is literally a walking jeweler’s shop, and 
she is certainly not a lady nor — Oh ! hy Jove! ” 
Fraulein Altberg had just come upon the 
stage, and was bowing right and left in ac- 
knowledgment of the applause which greeted 
her. I heard Philip’s sudden exclamation, and 
attributed it to his surprise at seeing such a 
beautiful face. I was staring straight in front 
of me, devouring her with my eyes, waiting 
until the no^se should subside before I said any- 
thing to my companion. 

Oh ! I say,” said Philip’s voice again, speak- 
ing in a strange sort of whisper, is that Frau- 
lein Altberg, Tom ? ” 

^^It is,” I replied joyfully. thought you 
would admire her, Philip. Did you ever see 
such a face before ? Is she not superb ? ” 

But Philip did not answer ; he had seized my 


176 


TIT FOE TAT. 


opera-glass, and was scanning Fraulein Altberg’s 
features intently. Presently lie laid tlie glass 
down again, and for tlie first time I noticed that 
bis countenance bad altered, and bis usual de- 
honair expression given way to one of mingled 
pain and astonishment. 

Wby, Philip,” I said, “ what is the matter 
with you ? ” 

^^Come out,” be repbed in an excited sotto 
voce, “ Come out, Tom ; I have something to 
tell you, but I cannot tell it here. Come out for 
a few moments.” 

And miss the best part of the play ? ” I 
asked in amazement. “ Cannot your information 
keep awhile ? It cannot be anything of vital 
importance.” 

It ^5,” said Philip in a determined tone. It 
will not keep, and you must come outside with 
me for a moment.” 

I rose somewhat reluctantly, and proceeded to 
follow him out, wondering what had suddenly 
come over him. 


TIT EOR TAT. 


177 


lie said hurriedly, when we were 
quite out of the theater, and were standing alone 
on the deserted sidewalk, I have a very un- 
pleasant piece of news for you, my dear fellow: 
that woman whom you call Fraulein Altberg is 
not Fraulein Altberg at all. You remember the 
story I told you about that vile girl in Dresden — 
Lottchen? Well, that is Lottchen — don’t you 
understand, Tom? Fraulein Altberg and Lott- 
chen are the same person. hTow, swear at me 
or knock me down if you choose, but, hang me, 
it’s the truth.” 

I did not reply ; I only stood stock-still, star- 
ing at my friend as though I thought he had 
suddenly taken leave of his senses, as indeed I 
did. 

What do you mean ? ” I gasped at last. 
^^Are you drunk, Philip, or crazy? How can 
Fraulein Altberg and Lottchen possibly be the 
same person ? You must be mistaken.” 

“I am not mistaken, Tom,” replied Philip de- 
cidedly. Do you think I could by any chance 
12 


178 


TIT FOR TAT. 


be in error as to ber identity ? Come,” and be 
drew my arm witbin bis, let us find tbe man- 
ager of tbis atrocious place — ^perhaps he will be 
able to convince you.” 

Once more we entered tbe theater, and ad- 
vancing toward tbe box-office, Philip asked 
permission to see tbe manager for a few min- 
utes. 

^'Herr Schmidt,” said tbe man, “was up-stalrs 
in bis private office. He did not know whether 
Herr Schmidt could be disturbed, but be would 
send up to see ” — and an official whom be called 
Hans was accordingly dispatched to inquire. 
Hans returned in a few moments and desired 
tbe gentleman to walk up-stairs, and Philip and I 
followed him to tbe second story, where we 
were shown into Herr Schmidt’s presence. It 
was a small room almost entirely filled by a 
large table covered with ledgers, papers, and 
pamphlets of every description, and before it sat 
tbe manager himself, busily engaged in writing. 
He put down bis pen as we entered, and asked 


TIT FOE TAT. 


1^9 


in bland tones wliat lie could do to serve us — 
altbougli be could not conceal a certain amount 
of astonishment, wbicb our unexpected visit 
bad evidently occasioned. 

Herr Scbmidt,” I said, trying to speak in as 
unconcerned a voice as possible, “my friend 
Mr. Kandolpb and myself would like to ask you 
a few questions in regard to one of your ac- 
tresses — ^Fraulein Altberg — if you have no ob- 
jection.” 

Herr Scbmidt started slightly, and invited us 
to be seated. Then be rubbed bis bands 
through bis hair, and glanced from me to Philip 
in perplexity. 

“Vat do you visb to know?” be asked pres- 
ently. 

“Will you be kind enough to tell us, Herr 
Scbmidt,” asked Philip, “exactly where and bow 
you happened to meet with Fraulein Altberg, 
and whether you know anything concerning her 
previous history ? It is not idle curiosity, believe 
me, which leads me to make these inquiries — ^it 


180 


TIT FOE TAT. 


is necessity — otherwise, I should not think of 
troubling you.” 

It ish no troubles,” said Herr Schmidt, wav- 
ing his hand amicably. “ She haf been mit me 
for von year now. I find her in England, vere 
she lived mit an old gentleman she call ‘papa.^ 
Der old gentleman he say he find her in Dres- 
den, selling fiowers. Dat ish all vot I knows ” — 
and he settled himself back in his chair with a 
satisfied air. 

“ And her name ? ” I interrupted. Is not 
her name Marie Altberg ? ” 

Acli was ! cried Herr Schmidt in a most 
disparaging tone of voice. She take dat name 
ven she come mit me — you understan’ ? Ven I 
first see her she called herself Lottchen Dum- 
pelberg — ^but I told her dat vould never do. 
Who would come and see an actress dat call her- 
self Lottchen Dumpelberg ? No, no ! I make 
her change it.” And Herr Schmidt chuckled 
in evident delight at the recollection of his 
former wit. 


TIT FOE TAT. 


181 


Then, I suppose, that person she lives with at 
present is not her mother either?” I asked in 
> such a queer voice that I hardly recognized it. 

“ Bah ! ” said Herr Schmidt, “ she haf no 
mudder; she never haf mudder dat I know. 
Ach nein! Dat ish only vat here you calls, 
mein Gott! a put-up job. Now, vat more you 
vants to know ? ” 

“Nothing more, thanks,” I answered in a 
choked voice. “We are very much obliged to 
you, Herr Schmidt, and must apologize for our 
intrusion at such an untimely hour, but it was 
absolutely necessary that we should know posi- 
tively these details. Good-evening. Come, 
Philip.” 

We bowed and left the office. On our way 
down-stairs Philip turned toward me and laid 
his hand on my arm. 

“ Don’t take it to heart, Tom,” he said kindly. 
“That woman isn’t worth regretting; she’s the 
veriest fiend on the face of the earth, I believe. 
She saw you were desperately in love with her. 


182 


TIT FOE TAT. 


and she made up her mind to catch you, and, 
of course, she succeeded — for with that face 
she could do almost anything. I don’t really 
suppose that in her heart she cares a fig for 
you. A woman like that is not capable of 
caring for anything beyond gratifying her insa- 
tiable vanity. She probably thought you were 
rich, and able to give her a position in society. 

0 Tom ! I would never have believed it of 
you ! To think that you^ who thought yourself 
so securely armed against feminine wiles, should 
at last have fallen a victim to the very woman 

1 took such pains to warn you against. Was 
not my experience sufficient ? But never mind ; 
I won’t tease you at present, at all events. 
Where are you going ? ” 

“To Tier house,” I answered sternly. “ I shall 
hear the truth from her own lips. You shall go 
with me, Philip. ” 

“ But the theater is not out yet ; she will not 
be at home.” 

“ Never mind, we can wait.” 


TIT FOE TAT. 


183 


“ Just as you please, my dear fellow ; but you 
cannot imagine bow strange the idea of meeting 
Lottcben face to face again makes me feel. By 
Jove ! I wonder wbat sbe did witb my scarf-pin 
and ring! Has sbe got anything of yours, 
Tom?” 

Sbe asked me for tbe medallion I wore on 
my watcb-cbain tbe other day, and I gave it to 
her. It was tbe day sbe promised to marry 
me.” 

That is quite in keeping witb Lottcben’s 
character,” said Philip. ^^Sucb an opportunity 
as that was not to be thrown away.” 

We bad reached tbe hotel by this time, and 
proceeded to make our way to tbe deserted 
parlor. Madame Altberg always accompanied 
her daughter ” to tbe theater, so there was no 
one to disturb us. Philip picked up one of 
tbe albums from tbe table, and began to exam- 
ine tbe photographs, while I sat by in moody 
silence. 

^Hlang me!” said Philip suddenly, “if this 


184 


TIT FOR TAT. 


isn’t the portrait of the soirdisant brother — the 
accomplice, you know ! Come here and look, 
Tom.” 

“Don’t bother me about portraits,” I an- 
swered ungraciously. “ I don’t care whose por- 
trait is there, and I don’t want to hear her name 
mentioned again — do you understand me, Philip ? 
This is not a time for jokes.” 

“ I did not make any joke that I am aware 
of,” said Philip. “This denouement seems to 
have turned your head, Tom.” 

I looked at the clock— half-past nine. In 
another hour she ought to be home. During 
that hour I would prepare a speech of wither- 
ing scorn and sarcasm combined, with which to 
assail her, and I smiled grimly to myself as I 
contemplated her expression in hearing it. 

“ I say,” said Philip, “ she will be astonished 
enough to see me here, will she not ? Lottchen 
is a clever woman, a very clever woman, but we 
have got the better of her this time. What kind 
of a person is the mother, Tom ? ” 


TIT FOR TAT. 


185 


“ Disgustingly vulgar/’ I replied in a dreary 
monotone. “Harding nearly fainted wiien lie 
saw her.” 

“ Keally,” said Philip, “ I begin to think this 
an extremely interesting adventure. It will be 
quite enjoyable by and by.” 

“Very enjoyable, no doubt, for you,” I said. 
“It win not be quite so pleasant for me, how- 
ever.” 

A long silence. Philip continued to examine 
the photographs, and when he had finished the 
last volume he walked over to the piano and, 
turning over the music, began to hum softly 
to himself. The hands of the clock went round 
to ten o’clock; only one more half-hour and 
then it would be over — at least, I hoped so. 
What a fool I had been ! — what a fool, what 
a fool ! — I kept repeating to myself until the 
words lost all significance, and became utterly 
devoid of meaning. After all, though, I was 
no worse than Philip. He had been deceived by 
her, so why not others as well ? All this time. 


186 


TIT FOE TAT. 


where was my great love for her ? Gone ! van- 
ished like a (fream, leaving me face to face with 
stern, grim-visaged reality. It had been nothing 
but an illusion, then — a mad infatuation of the 
moment ? Who knows ? Who can explain the 
sudden turning of adoration into disgust and 
loathing ? At that moment, I think, I positively 
loathed Fraulein Altberg. While I was thus 
meditating, and wondering what would be the 
most fitting terms to use in order to express the 
true state of my feelings toward her, the door 
opened quickly, and the subject of my medita- 
tion entered. 

She had come straight from the theater in her 
stage costume, and round her neck I could see 
gleaming the gold and pearls of my little medal- 
lion. I rose as she came in, accompanied by her 
mother, and she advanced toward me. Philip 
was by the piano at the far end of the room, 
with his back toward us, and Fraulein Altberg 
evidently was not aware of his presence, for she 
looked neither to the right nor the left, only 


TIT FOR TAT. 


187 


straight before her at my upright figure, into 
which I endeavored to instill an extra amount of 
dignity. 

Why, Mr. Clason,” she said, “ I did not ex- 
pect you so early. Have you just come from the 
theater ? Have you been waiting long ? ” 

Where was the scornful speech I had prepared 
to answer her with ? I could not remember one 
word of it, but I felt that no time must be lost 
in asserting myself, and letting her know the 
actual purport of my visit. I therefore drew 
myself up stiffly, and sought to speak in a per- 
fectly calm and majestic tone. 

‘^Fraulein Altberg,” I said, ^^you invited 
me to come here this evening without either Mr. 
Harding or Mr. Wright, and I have obeyed your 
wishes. You said nothing, however, in reference 
to any one else, so I have taken the libei1;y of 
bringing another friend of mine — one who 
also claims old acquaintanceship with you. 
Philip,” raising my voice slightly, let me pre- 
sent you to Fraulein Altberg.” 


188 


TIT FOR TAT. 


PMlip turned as I mentioned his name, and 
now came forward with a graceful bow. As the 
full glare of the gas-light fell upon his face, I 
saw Fraulein Altberg give a sudden start, and 
then turn deathly pale. 

^^Yes,” said Philip, remember Fraulein 
Altberg perfectly well; only she used to be 
called by another name, when we were such 
friends in Dresden.” 

There is some mistake,” she said finally, 
speaking in a hard, unnatural voice. I do not 
remember this gentleman. Why do you bring 
him here, Mr. Clason ? ” 

^Wou may not remember me,” said Philip, 
“but I doubt if you have ever forgotten my 
pearl pin and my watch, for they must have 
brought you a good round sum. I see, too, 
Lottchen, that you have gained a relative since I 
knew you, in the shape of a very excellent and 
substantial mother ; surely, she should take the 
place of both mother and husband, and that 
being the case, you do not want my friend 


TIT FOR TAT. 


189 


Clason. Come, Tom, there is no need of our 
staying here any longer, is there ? ” 

“Certainly not,” I replied with dignity. “I 
must wish you good-evening, Fraulein Altberg. 
You are a very clever actress, but the best of 
actresses are liable to fail sometimes ; and, par- 
don me for saying so, you have certainly failed 
on this occasion.” 

“What is the matter?” suddenly exclaimed 
Madame Altberg. “What are these gentlemen 
talking about, Marie, my dear? I can’t under- 
stand a word they say.” 

“ Oh ! nothing worth mentioning,” said her 
daughter with admirable coolness, having com- 
pletely recovered herself. “ Mr. Clason, mamma, 
asked me to marry him the other day, and now 
he has come to tell me that he repents of his 
offer. Gentlemen do not generally do such 
things, but I dare say it is an American cus- 
tom.” 

“It is not the custom, at all events,” I said, 
“for gentlemen in America to marry thieves. 


190 


TIT TOE TAT. 


Good-evening, Fraulein Altberg. Come, Pliilip, 
I am quite ready ” — and, bowing gravely, we 
both took our departure. 

Tliat was magnificent ! ” said Pliilip, drawing 
a long breatb, as we walked away. ^^You 
don’t tbink we overdid it, Tom, do you ? You 
don’t consider our expressions a little too 
strong ? ” 

^^Not a bit of it,” I replied; served ber 
right. But, Philip, I have a favor to ask of you- 
Don’t say anything to Harding about this un- 
expected dmouementj will you? I do not care 
to hear his theories on the subject ; I can fix it 
all right with him myself.” 

<^Very well,” said Philip, shall be as 
silent as the grave. There is a proverb, Tom, 
which says, ^ He who laughs last, laughs best’ — 
but, perhaps, we had better not speak of that 
until you are in a more composed frame of mind. 
And now, as long as it is not late, suppose you 
come over to my rooms, and we’ll have a 
smoke.” 


PUBLICATIONS OF G. P, PUTNAM'S SONS. 


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